Lightbringer
by bloodylullabies
Summary: An AU story that focuses on an original female character and spans over the entire series of the Wheel of Time. Check out the new, improved version of this story on AO3! Link's in my profile. Plenty of new chapters, better character development, extra twists. Seriously this version sucks and I'm too lazy to update it right now.
1. Once upon a dream

**Author's note** : I don't own anything. All credit to Robert Jordan (may the Light illuminate his soul) and Brandon Sanderson.

Major spoilers ahead, as early as chapter three.

Thank you for stopping by!

* * *

She woke up with a start, certain she'd overslept. She saw the candle burning on her bedside table and wondered if she'd forgotten to extinguish it the night before. That seemed impossible; one of her sisters would have noticed and put it out. Feeling hazy, she sat up in the bed.

Where in the Pit of Doom was she? This wasn't her room! Could it even be called a room? The ceiling and the walls seemed to be made of rough stone, just like the floor. It looked as though the room had been carved into a rock. There was a plain washstand on the opposite wall, a small cupboard and a door to the left.

Was this a dream? She'd had odd dreams before, sometimes vivid ones, but nothing quite like this. She pinched her left arm, hard, and bit off a curse when the pain hit her. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to explore her surroundings.

Throwing back the blanket, she got up. She was wearing the same night shift she'd worn when she got in bed the night before. At least no one had undressed her; that was something. She walked to the door, tried the handle. It offered no resistance. Opening the door a crack, she peeked into the next room. It looked like a large cave converted into a living space. She couldn't hear anything; in fact, everything was eerily silent. She opened the door in full. There were shelves upon shelves filled with books on her left and she saw a cosy-looking armchair near the opposite wall, in front of the hearth, which held no fire. She spotted another door on her right. That was all. There was no window; no one was there.

Sighing, she started for the other door and operated the same way as before. As soon as she opened it, a strange noise filled the air, a crashing sound that reminded her of nothing she knew. She heard bird cries, but none that she recognised. She pushed the door wide open and suffered her second shock of the day.

She stood atop a sheer cliff, frighteningly high above the water.

Down below, the water was everywhere; it stretched as far as she could see. She gaped at the immensity of it. Was this what people called the sea? Or was it an ocean? She wasn't sure what the difference was, if there was any. Then she realised that only the door separated her from the precipice and she slammed it shut, panting with fear. She had never been comfortable with heights. Light, what was this place? She was shaking; she could feel the edge of panic settling in her mind. _Burn you, get a hold of yourself!_

Taking her head in her hands, she tried to gather her wits. She needed to think. What could she do? Where to start? There was no way she would attempt to climb the face of the cliff and, even if the water below proved deep enough, the fall was likely to kill her. And even if she did make it safely there, somehow, how far would she have to swim until she found land? Blood and ashes! How _had_ she gotten here?

 _The books!_ Of course, they would not teach her how to fly out of here, but she might a least find some clues indicating where she was. With renewed purpose, she turned around and started to move toward the shelves on the opposite wall. That was when she noticed the man sitting in the armchair.

* * *

She stood still, holding her breath. The man sat staring at the fire, his back to her. He didn't move. She was certain he hadn't been there a moment before, no more than the fire had been.

"You're finally awake," she heard him say. He had a deep, quiet voice and a faint accent she couldn't quite place.

"Ah… yes?" She wanted to ask where she was, to demand that he take her home, but before she could speak, the man let out a small chuckle and rose from his seat, turning around slowly to face her.

His eyes were on fire.

That was all she had time to notice. Her heart skipped a few beats. Her knees gave out and she fell to the stone floor. This wasn't a dream. She was dead. She had died, and this was the Pit of Doom. The man started to laugh as she slipped out of consciousness.


	2. No escape from reality

She woke up feeling groggy. The same candle was still burning on the bedside table. She'd had a faint hope that she would wake up to find herself in her own bedroom, the one she shared with her sisters. She had dreamed of the man with the eyes of fire, dreamed of falling off the cliff and drowning in the vast sea. She couldn't make sense of anything. Could she have died and not realised it? Death was nothing like she had imagined. _Light, help me._

She lay there for some time, her mind blank. She couldn't focus on anything. Was there even a point in getting up?

She was thirsty. How could she be thirsty if she was dead? Sighing, she got up, stretching her arms. She took a peek into the other room. The man was nowhere in sight. Was he even a man? Shaking her head, she went in search of a drink.

"Looking for something, little girl?"

Jumping a foot into the air, she turned in the direction the voice had come from. He was sitting on her bed. How did he get there? She squeezed her eyes shut. She would _not_ pass out again. Inhaling deeply, she opened her eyes once more. The man had gotten up and was now standing right in front of her. He was tall, taller than most people. He wore clothes of unrelieved black. Slowly, she craned her head to look him in the… well, in the place where his eyes should be. "As a matter of fact, I am. Could I have some water, please? Sir?" she asked politely. It never hurt to be polite, her mother always said.

He grinned at her. This time she noticed the flames dancing in his mouth as well as in his eyes. _Blood and flaming ashes_ , she thought with a shudder. "Sir." He shook his head, obviously amused. "So polite. You are a well-trained pet. What is your name, little pet?"

She wanted to swallow before answering, but her mouth was too dry. She cleared her throat instead. "I'm Neya," she replied unsteadily. She was tempted to ask him the same question, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid of the answer.

"Neya," he repeated. He seemed to consider it for a moment, examining her, head cocked slightly to the side. She took the opportunity to study the rest of his face. He appeared to be in his middle years, a good-looking man with short dark hair and a straight nose. He was clean-shaven. All in all, he looked perfectly normal, if one could disregard the fire burning in his eyes and mouth. "Water is so bland. We'll have some wine instead. Do you like wine, little pet?"

"Sure. I'm just really thirsty." She didn't add 'sir' this time. It seemed to amuse him more than anything else.

He held out his hand toward the larger room. "This way." She couldn't bring herself to put her back to him, so she simply took a step back. He chuckled. "Fear not. I have no intention to harm you."

"Then what are your intentions?" she blurted out. "Why am I here? What is this place? Who are you?" Blood and ashes!She bit her lip to quell the flow of questions.

His laughter was a rich cackle. It sounded a bit unhinged. "You will be keeping the place clean," he announced simply, ignoring her other questions.

She blinked at him in astonishment. He couldn't be serious. "Did you just _abduct_ me so I could be your _housemaid_?" she asked in a strangled voice.

He'd gotten a bottle of wine from somewhere. As she watched, the cork came out. He hadn't even touched the flaming thing.

Suddenly, she understood. She wasn't dead after all. _He can channel. Light help me, he's a man who can channel._

* * *

The man hadn't bothered to answer her questions before leaving. He'd simply vanished into thin air, confirming her fear.

He'd poured her a glass of wine and told her where to find the kitchen – there was a hidden door behind one of the bookshelves. She had no idea _why_ the kitchen was concealed behind the shelf, but amidst everything else, it seemed an insignificant detail. Inside, she'd found a stove, kitchen supplies and a barrel of water.

He had been gone for days now. She wasn't sure how many days exactly. As soon as she'd been certain he was gone, she made herself open the door leading outside again. She had to make sure there was no way to escape. Gingerly, she'd leaned outside as much as she dared to inspect the cliff, but it appeared to lead as far upward as it did downward. She could never climb it, even if she wasn't terrified of heights. Rock and water, and nothing else.

The only noises were the sound of the waves crashing at the base of the cliff and the strident cries of those strange white birds. For a while she simply stood staring at the sea, lost in thought, until she caught sight of an enormous shadow below the surface. At first she assumed it was a large school of fish – she knew very little of sea animals – but then she realised that it was in fact one colossal creature as it had come jumping out of the water, a dark, gigantic monster that made her stare in awe and tremble with fear at the same time. Light! Suddenly she was glad for the distance between her and the water below. She soon decided she'd spent enough time uselessly gazing outside and shut the door.

She was hungry now, and decided she might as well eat. She would probably die here, but it wouldn't be out of starvation. She made a simple broth and ate it with a chunk of bread and a piece of mouldy cheese.

The man said he wanted her to keep the place clean – she still couldn't believe the casualness with which he'd said it, as if it were a perfectly normal request – but there was no broom or any other cleaning implement to be found, so she spent most of her time perusing the volumes stacked on the shelves. Most of them were written in what she assumed was the Old Tongue. The few that she could read, those who were written in the Common Tongue, were all about history: chronicles retracing the reign of Arthur Hawkwing, biographies of long-dead kings and queens, the annals of the White Tower from its founding, a brief account on the Breaking. She read them all. What else could she do? She still hoped to find a clue as to where she was and why she was there, but came upon nothing obvious.

It had been weeks now, and the man hadn't come back yet. The food supplies replenished themselves overnight, she had no idea how. The fire in the hearth was constantly roaring, although the room temperature never seemed to alter; it was always pleasantly warm. After she'd finished the last book, she unearthed several old volumes that appeared to be lexicons, each apparently dating from a different era. Armed with that, she settled to decipher the books written in the Old Tongue.

How had her abductor come by these books? Some of them – most of them, really – had to be worth more than her parents' farm. She was working on the table of contents of an ancient volume which title she hadn't been able to translate when the man finally came back. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the ever-burning candle providing just enough light to read by, when he suddenly materialised in the doorway, startling her. Reflexively, she tried to hide the book behind her back. He grinned at her as the old book flew out of her hand toward him and promptly burst out with laughter when he saw the cover. "Trying to steal my secret recipes, are you, pet?" Recipes? Was this a cookery book? _Of all the books stacked on the shelves, I had to pick that one_ , she thought irritatingly. The man looked up at her, his mirth gone as abruptly as it came. "Is there something to eat?"

Her eyes widened in outrage. The man had been gone for weeks and he simply expected there to be food waiting for him when he popped up without warning? She considered giving him a piece of her mind, but took a slow, calming breath instead. Luckily – for him – she had made some stew. "The pot is on the stove. Help yourself," she said.

"No, you will bring it to me at the table," he replied in a dangerous tone. Before she could say anything, he turned around and walked into the other room. _Table? There is no table!_

Well, there was one now. She watched him settle down on a carved wooden chair that hadn't been there either just a moment before. Shaking her head and cursing under her breath, she went into the kitchen to fix him a bowl.

"There's dust everywhere. I believe I told you to keep the place clean, girl," he said when she came back.

"Why, I'd be happy too. I don't suppose you have a broom hidden somewhere on your person?" she asked sarcastically. She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. The book he'd set on the table flew across the room and landed in the fire, where it was consumed almost instantly.

The man's eyes blazed. "You will watch your tone around me, girl." His voice was barely a whisper.

She swallowed hard. "But there is nothing for me to clean with," she told him meekly. He didn't answer, and started to eat without looking at her. It was as if she'd stopped existing. She waited for him to finish, standing still, not daring to move.

"I'll get you what you need," he finally said when he was done. A second later, he stood up and vanished.

She stood gaping at the chair for a moment. He'd only just come back! Why had he even bothered, if he was going to leave again minutes later? Surely he had other ways of acquiring food. This made no sense. That particular thought seemed to cross her mind at least twenty times a day, so she set it aside.

Sighing, she cleared the table. As she entered the kitchen, she noticed a broom and duster in a corner. Her laughter had a faint hysterical note to it as she rolled her sleeves up. She had some cleaning to do.


	3. Hope you guess my name

Even translating book titles from the Old Tongue was frustrating, gruelling work. Some words weren't mentioned in the lexicons, quite a lot of them. Others seemed to have more than one meaning, sometimes as many as four or five, none of them related in any way. Whenever she found something potentially interesting, she started by analysing the table of contents before settling to translate a few sentences from the book proper.

Most of what she'd uncovered up to this point held little interest. There were technical books recounting the various uses for weaves made by _saidin_ and _saidar_ andcatalogues filled with descriptions of something called _ter'angreal_ that she found no translation for; biographies of obscure characters; atlases and maps of lands she had never heard of. And then she'd found something very different, stashed behind yet another shelf, in a small alcove holding neatly lined-up books: the complete collection of Elan Morin Tedronai's published works.

At first she hadn't understood. Why would the man hide this particular set, as if it was more important than the other books? She'd tried to decipher the titles, but they were complex. She thought one was called _Reality and the Absence of Meaning_ , and another _The Dismantling of Reason_ or maybe _The_ _Disassembly_ _of Reason_. All in all, the translated titles were about as much help as they had been in the Old Tongue. She'd put them aside for the time being, carefully placing them back where she'd found them and hoping he wouldn't notice.

It had all clicked together when she'd re-read the thin leather-backed copy of _A Brief Account of the Breaking_. ' _Ishamael, the Betrayer of Hope, once known as Elan Morin Tedronai…_ '

Eyes fixed on the page, she felt a stab of terror so strong she thought she might have fainted, had she not been lying in bed. It was impossible. _The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul_ , she recited, a litany that everyone knew.

And yet here she was, a captive in a cave carved in the side of a rock, or mountain, lost in the middle of the sea, detained by a man who could channel and whose eyes and mouth blazed fire. It almost made sense, if anything could still be said to make sense. It didn't explain why she was here, but at least she knew who she was dealing with. She would have been relieved, if she hadn't been quite so terrified.

* * *

He was back again. How long had it been this time? He seemed to keep away longer every time. She thought she'd been here for four months already, maybe five. This was only the fourth time she'd seen him in that stretch of time. After the day he'd eaten here for the first time, he'd been gone at least three weeks. Then he appeared in the middle of the night, asking for food again. She'd gone back to bed after serving him without a word. He hadn't said anything else and had been gone when she woke up the next morning. The third time, he arrived after she'd just started cooking her meal for the day. When she told him that he would have to wait, he rolled his eyes and left as abruptly as he'd come.

He had been gone a month now, and she was worried he wouldn't come back at all. Not that it changed anything whether he was there or not, but he was her only way out of here. If anything happened to him, she would die here alone, forgotten. She hadn't yet managed to come up with a satisfactory idea on how to escape this wretched place, but she was absolutely certain that her best chance lay with him. She had to become closer to him, somehow. How she was going to accomplish that with him gone pretty much all of the time remained a mystery, though.

Well, he was here now. She'd awoken to find him sitting at the table, studying a map. He hadn't moved or said anything when she'd walked into the room. Not sure what to do, she'd settled to fix them both some breakfast. She placed the tray on the table and sat in front of him. The second chair hadn't been there the previous day, but she was past wondering about such trifles. They ate in silence for a while. He spoke suddenly, as if noticing her just then. "There you are. I was wondering whether you were still alive."

 _Against all odds, I am_ , she thought bitterly. A dozen sarcastic replies came to her, but she knew better than to utter them aloud. She made her tone as neutral as she could. "I was wondering the same thing about you." She itched to ask where he'd been, what he was doing that justified his staying out there for so long. What was happening in the world? She'd reflected that, if he truly was who she thought he was, it could mean that the world was under a greater threat than it knew. Though surely, if the Dark One were loose, she would know. Wouldn't she?

He gave her a twisted smile. "Alive as always. You've been taking good care of the place, it seems."

"Not much else to do. I'm not too keen on climbing or swimming," she said with a small shrug.

He chuckled. "Surely you have found some books to your liking in this jumble," he said, gesturing toward the bookshelves.

Was this a trick question? Did he know she knew? _Blood and ashes, calm down. He's just making conversation._ "I have indeed. I'm becoming increasingly fluent in the Old Tongue," she told him casually.

"Are you now?" he asked with a smirk, eyes blazing. He added something in the Old Tongue, speaking too fast for her to understand more than a couple of words. One of those sounded a lot like the word for 'ignorant'. To be fair, she had never heard the language spoken aloud before. He chuckled again when he saw the look on her face, shaking his head. "You know nothing, pet."

 _I know more than you think, Betrayer of Hope_. She gave him a sweet smile. "Then teach me."

He stared at her, face impassive. "Don't you think I have better things to do than try to instil ancient knowledge in you, pet?"

"I don't know. Do you?" She could have slapped herself. She was supposed to make him open up to her, not enrage him!

To her surprise, he laughed. As usual, the sound came out as a slightly deranged cackle. It was incredible how quickly his mood could turn. He sounded lucid enough when he talked, but it seemed clear to her that the madness inherent to channeling _saidin_ was deeply rooted in him. "I suppose it's a matter of opinion," he replied thoughtfully. "I like to think that what I do is of the utmost importance, but what you and I find important are certainly two different matters entirely." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why do you want to learn the Old Tongue? Do you think it will somehow allow you to escape this place?" He sounded genuinely curious, as if he couldn't believe she could be so dim.

"No, but it will help me bear the crushing weight of boredom," she replied as nonchalantly as she could.

"Indeed. Well, I'm afraid you will have to bear it a little while longer, pet. The chase is coming to an end, I can feel it, but until then I must stay focused on the prey," he told her, eyes blazing.

She had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't think he would answer if she asked, however, so she let it go. "Afterward, then, when your… task… is completed. Unless you're planning on releasing me once you're done?" she added hopefully.

"Little pet, when my task is completed, I promise you, you won't be burdened by anything ever again. None of us will be," he said softly. On that sunny note, he stood up and vanished once more.


	4. And it burns, burns, burns

" _When my task is completed, I promise you, you won't be burdened by anything ever again. None of us will be."_

She had pondered his last words for a long time that day. However, no matter which way she turned them, it seemed to her that this mysterious task of his lead to her inevitable death, and possibly that of the entire world. But what could she possibly do about it?

It was not a pleasant thought and she had trouble sleeping that night – more than usual, in any case. Dreams, or rather nightmares, kept intruding her rest. In some of them, Ishamael destroyed her village, her home, and she watched as her family burned, trapped inside the house. Of course, that scene prompted her oldest nightmare to return, the one she thought she had buried long ago. More than once, she woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, until she finally gave up and decided to fix herself a cup of tea.

She picked up a volume at random to keep her company. There was a kind of painting on the cover of this one, representing a good-looking man in his middle years, his brown hair lightly streaked with white. This time she didn't need the lexicons to understand the title. In fact, she used them less and less as she advanced through the shelves of books. She really was becoming fluent in the language, in its written form at least. The book was called _Lews Therin Telamon: an Autobiography_.

So this was the man they had called the Dragon, the Aes Sedai who had murdered his entire family after the Dark One tainted _saidin_. She hadn't known there were any images of him left in the world. After all, he had killed himself over three thousand years ago. Then again, Ishamael himself supposedly was bound in Shayol Ghul.

She had read three chapters of the book when Ishamael came back. She saw movement in the corner of her eye and turned in that direction, only to find him lying on the floor. At least she thought it was him. All she could see were the charred remains of what might have been a tall man. Stunned, she hesitated before approaching the body. She felt a wave of panic seize her as she stumbled toward it. _Please, Light, don't let it be him. He can't be dead. I don't want to die here!_ She fell to her knees beside the burnt corpse. Even this close, she couldn't be sure whether it was him. The man's clothes seemed to have melted into his skin. His death must have been painful.

Suddenly, the corpse moved. She almost fell backward when it grabbed her arm. It uttered a single word before loosening its grip, a bare whisper: " _Pet_."

 _Blood and flaming ashes!_ She was dimly aware that she was crying. She was becoming hysterical. The thought made her laugh. That was it; she was dead. Her last faint hope of getting out of here had just been reduced to ashes. She laughed even harder.

She'd gone numb at some point, or maybe she'd passed out. She couldn't remember how long she'd been sitting there, staring at the corpse; it might have been a second or a year. She became aware that she was clutching his arm, but she couldn't make herself let go. A spell of despair took her, quickly replaced by anger, and she started to shake him, as if it would somehow revive him. She heard someone shout, then realised the sound came from her. Suddenly, she felt warmth envelop her. A sentiment of peace mingled with joy filled her. She closed her eyes, drinking it all in.

* * *

When she opened her eyes again, Ishamael sat staring at her, looking blank. There were no marks on him, no evidence that he'd suffered any kind of injury, yet he looked… different. She couldn't have said what it was exactly.

She was in her bed. She hadn't realised she'd fallen asleep. Had she been dreaming? She wanted to touch him, to make sure he was really there, but she dared not. She met his eyes and then she understood why he looked different. His eyes weren't pits of flames anymore. He had brown eyes, a very dark brown, almost black. He looked jarringly human. The thought made her smile, and that caused him to frown. She heard him clear his throat roughly. "Are you… alright?" He sounded oddly hesitant.

She sat up to face him. "I feel fine. Thank you for asking," she replied quietly. "What happened?" she asked after a brief hesitation.

He shook his head, obviously confused. "I'm not sure. I almost had him. And then he…" He interrupted his halting speech for a moment then went on in a barely audible voice. "I could smell my skin roasting. I Travelled. I must have. I don't know what happened. I woke up to find you lying on top of me in the other room. I was… like this. You were unconscious. I put you in bed. That was hours ago." He trailed off, frowning at nothing in particular.

Travelled? Who had he almost had? If she asked him now, when he was so clearly dazed, maybe he would answer. Instead she asked, "Are _you_ alright?"

Focusing his gaze back on her, he nodded slowly. "It would appear so." He hesitated again. "When did you learn to channel, pet?"


	5. I'm friends with the monster

She started to open her mouth to argue, to deny it. But it made sense. In fact, it was the only explanation that made sense. He couldn't possibly have saved himself, not in his condition. And that feeling she'd had right before she passed out… Yes, it made sense, there was no denying it. But how had she done it? What _had_ she done, exactly? Shaking her head slowly, she looked him in the eyes. His incredibly normal eyes. "I've never channeled before in my life. I swear," she added when he raised his eyebrow sceptically. "I don't know what I did or how it happened. I just know I really, really didn't want you to be dead."

He was quiet for a long time, as if considering her words. "Of course you didn't," he finally said. "What would you do without me?" he went on with a sneer. "You will have to be careful. You could have burned yourself out. As it were, you're lucky you didn't get both of us killed."

"You were already dying!" she sputtered indignantly. The nerve of the man! "Without me, you would be dead," she went on in a milder tone. "You might want to remember that, next time you plan on getting yourself burnt to a crisp."

He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. "That won't happen again. I never make the same mistake twice," he said. "I don't see why I should thank you. You saved me because you know perfectly well I'm the only reason you are still alive."

"You're also the reason why I'm here in the first place," she retorted sourly, "and I still don't know _why_ I'm here."

"Fate, pet. Fate brought you to me, or rather, it brought _me_ to _you_ ," he replied. "And now I know why," he murmured, so low she didn't think she had been meant to hear. _Fate_ , she thought bitterly. What kind of answer was that?

He cleared his throat once more. "You will not attempt to channel again. It is too dangerous, and I can't provide any tutoring in this particular area." He got up abruptly. "You should rest. The amount of Power you used to Heal me must have depleted you almost entirely. You will feel weak for a while yet, and you will be ill, if this was truly the first time you channeled." He was gone before she had time to reply.

* * *

Just as Ishamael predicted, she was ill soon afterward, with a fever like none she'd ever experienced before. She slept for the better part of two days, to the best of her estimation, waking up occasionally to take a sip of water from the goblet he'd left on the bedside table.

Eventually, the fever receded, and she decided she had to get up. She was ravenously hungry. She ate almost everything she could eat without having to cook it first then set to make a proper meal. Her hunger had faded somewhat, but it would come back soon enough, she was sure. She hadn't eaten in days.

She didn't expect Ishamael to come back anytime soon, so she decided to give his books a try, now that she was more familiar with the Old Tongue. She wanted to know the man, to understand how he thought. She gave up after chapter three of _Reality and the Absence of Meaning_. Had the man _ever_ been sane? None of it made sense to her. Maybe she was simply too dense to grasp it all. Either way, she had to think of something else to get closer to him. If only he stayed here for longer than minutes at a time! Preferably without being on the brink of death. Out of nowhere, she remembered that he mentioned she'd been unconscious for hours after Healing him. Surely he hadn't actually sat there the whole time, watching her? The thought made her slightly uncomfortable. Giving herself a shake, she put the book back in the hidden alcove. The stew would be ready. She was hungry again.

When she came back from the kitchen with her steaming bowl, Ishamael was sitting in front of the fire. Frowning at his back, she decided to ignore him for the time being and settled at the table. He didn't speak, so she ate in silence then went back to the kitchen for a second bowl.

He joined her in the kitchen and filled a bowl for himself, then followed her in the other room, sitting across from her. He ate with as much enthusiasm as she'd ever seen from him. He usually seemed to consider eating a necessary annoyance. When he was done he asked her if he could finish her bowl (she'd finally gotten her fill) and she nodded once, staring at him in astonishment as he gulped down the remaining scraps of her meal. "Healing takes a lot of energy out of the person being Healed," he explained when he saw the look on her face. "Using the Power drains the channeler as well, of course, all the more considering the tremendous amount you must have applied on me."

She had to keep him talking, to make him stay here. She did not lack questions, but she was afraid he would get annoyed, or even angry, if she pestered him with them. She had to take it easy. "Do you want some more?" That seemed safe enough.

He shook his head. "Not now." He got up, and for a moment she was afraid he would disappear again, but he simply settled back in the armchair.

Relief flowed through her. "Do you want some wine?" No reply. She decided to pour them both a goblet. She brought one to him and he took it without a word. She took one of the chairs and moved it near the fire to settle next to him. She was afraid to say anything, afraid he might vanish again.

She was still wondering what to say when he spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she answered, a bit nervously. Silence fell once more. "What does it mean, to burn yourself out?" she finally asked.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" he said with a sigh. "To be burned out is to be severed from the One Power by accident," he explained.

"Oh. Is that lethal, then?" Shaking his head in disbelief, he chuckled darkly, but he didn't answer. _Blood and ashes_. She had to change the subject. "What's a piano?" She wasn't sure what prompted that particular question. She had seen that word in Lews Therin's autobiography and couldn't find its meaning anywhere.

He looked at her, startled. "Where did you learn that word? Are you really reading the books in the Old Tongue?" he asked incredulously, eyes wide.

"Well, yes. What else am I supposed to do? Anyway," she went on before he could reply, "I saw the word, but there wasn't much context, and it wasn't in the lexicons."

He was still staring at her and didn't answer right away. "It's a musical instrument," he finally let on. "From the Age of Legends," he added, although that much, at least, she had already figured out. He rose suddenly. "It's easier if I show you." He vanished.

He was back a moment later. As he called to her, she noticed that there was now a massive contraption standing against the opposite wall. It looked like a large desk with little black and white pieces in the front, and a narrow seat. She stared at it in amazement. How did he get that thing here? He grinned at her, apparently pleased by her stunned reaction. He sat down on the seat and began to play.

She wasn't sure how long he played. She was still sitting on the chair, captivated, her goblet of wine forgotten in her hand. When the music died down, she felt almost… hollow. It was as if she'd just awoken from a dream. She thought she could have listened to him forever.

He twisted on his seat to look at her. "Does that answer your question?" he asked smugly. His words rang loudly in the sudden silence. She nodded slowly, mutely. He walked back to the armchair.

She had a thousand more questions about the Age of Legends and he didn't seem to mind answering them now. She asked everything that came to her, but after a while he didn't need any prompting. He told her about the Aes Sedai of old, about the Treesingers and the Da'shain Aiel, the _chora_ trees, the skyscrapers of Paaran Disen, the Collam Daan and the Sharom. She took it all in. Ishamael looked lost in the past, lost in memories. She had finally found a way to breach him.


	6. You think I'm an ignorant savage

_Parting The Silk. The Dove Takes Flight. The Swallow Rides The Air._

Dancing from form to form, she moved around the room armed with her broom. She realised how ridiculous she must look, but being stranded in a cave in the middle of the sea did have its perks.

 _Water Flows Downhill. The River Undercuts The Bank. The Boar Rushed Downhill._

"What are you doing?" Ishamael asked her curiously, the smile obvious in his voice.

Startled, she almost threw the broom at him. "Bloody and ashes! My heart just skipped a couple of beats," she panted at him, dropping her makeshift weapon. "Do you _have_ to appear like that without any sort of warning?" she asked petulantly.

He chuckled softly. "Practicing sword forms with a broom. How… quaint."

"Well, I don't see any swords lying around," she said defensively. "Anyway, I'm just trying to pass the time. You've been gone for a while."

He studied her for a moment, considering. "How did you learn this, pet? In a book?"

She nodded sharply, still annoyed at having been so rudely interrupted. And frightened out of her wits. "Yes, one of the older volumes with no cover. There were some images inside, and brief explanations to describe the forms." She shrugged lightly. "Although, truth be told, I don't understand why people use sword forms."

"What do you mean?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Well, if I'm fighting for my life, I would rather my opponent didn't know what I'm about to do. What I mean, I suppose, is that I thought it would be best to be unpredictable, to do whatever the other person doesn't expect, instead of countering each move with the most adequate form."

"You're a woman. You wouldn't understand. A duel is not just about winning. It's about tactics and strategy, about anticipating your enemy's moves and outsmarting him. It's also about being honourable. It used to be, anyway."

"You're right, I don't understand. Honestly, I don't care how I do it, as long as I get away with my life. What good is honour, if you're dead?"

"And that's exactly why there are so few female Blademasters," he stated with a smirk. Arguing with him was pointless. He always had the last word. She was about to shrug it off and pick up the broom when he went on. "In any case, you won't learn anything, armed with that," he pointed out. Before she had time to reply, he vanished. Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of water. Blasted man! She managed with what she had.

He came back a minute later, holding two swords. Smoothly, he presented her with the shortest one. "Try this," he told her. "If you're going to learn, you might as well get used to a decent weapon, to provide adequate balance," he went on. "This is a _yatagan_."

It was a beautiful artefact, she had to admit. The hilt was rather plain, but the blade was single-edged and slightly curved, and it shone with a bright violet-blue hue. "It's cute," she told him, knowing it would annoy him.

It did. "Cute?" He scoffed. "It's a blade, girl, not a puppy. It's designed to kill people. How do you get 'cute' from that?"

"I think it's the colour," she told him with a grin.

He shook his head in irritation. "It's Power-wrought. It was enhanced by both _saidar_ and _saidin_ during the War of Power. The Talent used to create such weapons was lost long ago, unfortunately. It was called 'Aligning the Matrix'. It was used at an atomic level to–"

"You've lost me," she interrupted smoothly. _Matrix?_ _Atomic?_ _What does that even mean?_

He sighed deeply. "I forget how ignorant you are of these things." He waved dismissively. "It matters not. This weapon was named _Tsorovan_ – storm, lightning bolt – for the colour of its blade as well as the speed with which it can be handled. As you've no doubt noticed, it's very light. I believe it was intended for a woman." He positioned himself in front of her. "Go on. Attack me," he said, gesturing with his blade.

She stared at him incredulously. "Attack you? Are you insane? I've only ever whirled around the room with a broom, I'm no match for you!" she said with a mounting certainty that he was making fun of her.

"Of course I'm insane. Surely you know this by now," he stated flatly. "That's hardly the point. You need an opponent if you're to learn anything."

"But–"

"Trust your instincts. Training is only part of what makes a true Blademaster. You seem to have decent reflexes. Now you have a decent weapon. Go on," he repeated, shifting his feet slightly, positioning himself.

Inhaling deeply, she focused on him. _Striking The Spark._ It seemed fitting, considering the name of the blade.

They went on for some time, Ishamael spending most of it easily deflecting her attacks. Once in a while he called out to her, giving advice. At one point, in the beginning, he told her to stop altogether to reposition her grip on the hilt of her sword. He was a good teacher, patient and constructively critical.

Finally she raised a hand, pleading for a break. She was panting hard, sweat trickling down her back and covering her face. "Enough, you're killing me," she said haltingly, half-sitting, half-falling down in her chair.

He wasn't sweating, of course. He looked as pristine as ever in his close-fitting clothes of unrelieved black. _Burn him_ , she thought. She winced. _No, not that. Light help me, never again_. "Tired already, pet?" he asked with a smug grin. "Youth is wasted on the young."

She sighed dramatically. "May I remind you that you've had three thousand years of training, whereas I just started a few weeks ago? Not to mention that I learned all this from a book. And practiced with a broom," she finished wryly.

This time he let out a hearty laugh. "I'm just teasing, pet. You're not half-bad, for an uncouth primitive of this Age," he added, eyes twinkling. "With a little practice, _proper_ practice, you may even become decent."

"Does that mean you're going to keep practicing with me?" she asked hopefully. She wasn't sure what good it would do – she would never become a match for him – but at least it would keep him occupied. And what time he spent doing that was time he wasn't spending on destroying the world.

"I might. A little exercise never hurt anyone," he replied thoughtfully. "You would have to keep training even when I'm not around, however, if only to improve your stamina," he added with a grin.


	7. Betrayal never comes from an enemy

With a snap, she closed the book she'd been reading. There was a painting – a photograph, he had called it – of a man on the cover. He was stunningly handsome, with a hooked nose and jet black hair. She had some questions. She always had.

"Elan?" she began, then froze when she realised what she'd said. What she'd called him. She had started thinking of him as Elan instead of Ishamael a few weeks ago, for reasons unclear to her. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling he would not like it. She awaited the explosion, half-expecting his eyes to burst into flames like they used to.

He simply turned his head toward her, looking expectant and mildly inquisitive. When she didn't say anything, he prompted her softly. "Yes?"

"I…" she began again, her voice coming out as a croak. She cleared her throat. "I've just finished this biography about Dem… about Barid Bel Medar. The one written by Cassia Terrid Allman?" She had almost called him Demandred, but Elan always referred to the other Forsaken by their former names, although he usually used only their first names, something that had been considered offensive, or rude at the very least, during the Age of Legends. Demandred was an exception in that regard. She assumed that Elan had more respect for him than for the others. Oddly enough, he usually granted the Kinslayer the same courtesy.

"That's the only one there is." He closed his own book, looking interested now. "What about it?"

"There's something I don't quite understand. You said that Barid Bel went over to the Shadow because he was jealous of Lews Therin, because he envied him and resented him for being the most acclaimed man of the Age." He nodded. "But I've read both his biography and Lews Therin's…"

"Lews Therin's was actually an autobiography. Not quite the same thing," he cut in.

"Right. But how could Barid Bel be jealous of Lews Therin? I can't pretend to understand half the things either of them accomplished, but it seems to me that Barid Bel did at least as well as Lews Therin. Didn't he?" She was understating a little. She hadn't understood a quarter of all those accomplishments; the technical details were far beyond her comprehension.

"They both achieved great things, even by the standards of our Age. From my point of view, Barid Bel's discoveries largely overshadowed that of Lews Therin's, but the Dragon had something Barid Bel didn't." He paused, considering. "In the end, it all came to this: he was simply more likable. He was obsessed by fame, and spurred by the knowledge that people liked him, admired him. He dedicated a major part of his time promoting his works and socialising, making sure all the right people had heard about his latest discoveries and publications. Barid Bel never bothered with these trifles. The only thing he cared about was making progress. He was always learning, always advancing. As a result, he rarely made a public appearance. He was a quite capable speaker, and he gladly gave lectures at the University, but he simply never took time to appear at mere social events. That's how Lews Therin became the most acclaimed man of the Age. He was so genial, he made people laugh so easily. Barid Bel didn't have that particular skill, although he used to have a sense of humour, back in those days." He paused once more. His gaze had drifted off; he was clearly lost in the past.

"But why was the other man never mentioned in his rival's biography? I thought they were supposed to be arch-nemeses or something." She'd read that somewhere, in another book, a much more recent publication, written by some scholar from the White Tower. A Brown, most likely.

"You do know that channelers lived to be hundreds of years in those days." She nodded. She still couldn't quite take it in, but she knew. "They could hardly spend all that time actively competing against each other. In any case, it only became apparent when Barid Bel betrayed the Light, and I don't think Lews Therin ever truly thought of him as a rival. This enmity was Barid Bel's creation. But you want to know why he hated Lews Therin, I suppose?"

She nodded again. "I just can't fathom how you could possibly hate someone with such burning passion that you'd decide to join the Shadow. It doesn't make any sense, unless you used to be very close to them and something happened to change that."

"Such a smart little pet." He would never stop calling her that, would he? "They practically grew up together," he went on. "Both their families had estates in the same area. They had no siblings and their parents still had active careers. They must have been like brothers in their youth." He shrugged lightly. "Barid Bel never mentioned those early days, not even to me. I'm just building on what I've heard, and what I know. They both passed the test for channelers at an early age and were accepted at the Collam Daan a year before anyone else usually was. They were top of their class, as you'd expect, graduating with the highest honours. They were famous before they'd even accomplished anything of import. I used to teach at the Collam Daan, did you know that?"

She grinned at him. "Of course. I read your biography, too. One of them, anyway."

"They were always challenging each other, competing in every contest, both trying to achieve the best grades. It was all good-natured at the time. They usually ended up in a tie anyway. But soon after they graduated, a position opened to become the new professor in some obscure subject I won't bother to describe to you. It happened to be one of Barid Bel's favourite subjects, one in which he excelled, and he applied right away."

"But Lews Therin wanted to compete for that as well and ended up obtaining the position somehow," she finished for him.

He nodded gravely. "I'd never seen Barid Bel so furious. He was usually very quiet, and always in control. Lews Therin was the hot-tempered one. They almost came to blows over this, but I broke them apart before anyone got injured. Barid Bel left without another word, and no one saw him again for the next sixty years."

" _Sixty_ _years_? There was nothing about that in his biography!" she exclaimed.

"Allman's work focuses on his achievements. At his request, his early years were not to be mentioned. He was always very private. Anyway, that was when he gathered the material for his first books. He travelled around the world, to forgotten ruins and abandoned vestiges of past civilisations. He spent time with locals in the remotest parts of the earth, learned their language, their customs. He came back a different person. He then spent a decade writing and publishing books, all acclaimed works. But Lews Therin was already a renowned author, and his publications sold like hot cakes. Barid Bel's books never quite matched his old friend's in terms of critical acclaim or sales. Although he did have a much better style. Have you read anything by him?" he asked her.

"I… tried," she admitted. She'd opened some of Demandred's books, but never made it past the first chapters. She simply couldn't make sense of them; they were too complex for her, too technical. She'd decided he was either a genius or a madman – or both; the two didn't seem mutually exclusive – much like Elan himself.

"Barid Bel used to write poetry as well, you know," Elan went on, startling her out of her thoughts. Poetry, written by _Demandred_? What a strange concept. Elan smiled, correctly interpreting the slight frown on her face. "He was quite good, actually." His gaze had taken on that distant look once more. He gave himself a small shake. "I think I managed to salvage some of his poems. I'll try to find them. It's nothing like his other books, or mine. It's perfectly intelligible, I assure you." He gave her a small grin. So he knew she'd found his own publications… and failed to read them. He hadn't even been there! The man was so irritating sometimes.

She decided to put the conversation back on tracks. "What happened afterward? Something else must have happened to make him hate Lews Therin so much. It can't have been only about that position he didn't get."

"Of course not. But it wasn't any specific event. Rather, there were several small occurrences that accumulated and culminated when Lews Therin was put in charge of the armies of the Light, when it was clear that Barid Bel would have made a much better choice."

"Maybe it wasn't obvious at the time. Besides, Lews Therin was hardly incapable, wasn't he?" she asked.

"It should have been obvious. If not for all his connections, Lews Therin wouldn't have made it so high." He snorted. "If not for all his connections, he wouldn't have gone very far at all."

"What about Ilyena?" she wanted to know.

Elan looked at her, frowning. "What about her?"

"She was Lews Therin's wife and the most beautiful woman in the world." Everyone who'd ever written about Ilyena Sunhair seemed to agree on that point. "Didn't that trigger Barid Bel in some way? Wasn't he jealous of him? I should think a woman would be a good reason to hate someone so passionately."

Elan laughed, startling her once more. "Ilyena. She _was_ beautiful, I suppose, although I don't know whether or not she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I never paid much attention to such trivial matters." He looked at her, smiling thoughtfully. "Besides, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder." She met his eyes, frowning, wondering where that particular comment had come from. He didn't clarify his thought, instead continuing his story. "She was also quite clever, incredibly kind, patient and a wonderful hostess besides. But for all that, I always thought her a bit… dull. She seemed to live through her husband, rarely voiced any original ideas. She could gossip and converse about a wide array of subjects, but most of them were trivial. Politics, fashion, oenology… She loved to talk about children and education. That was her choice of career, if you didn't know already." She shook her head. She hadn't known; in fact, she knew almost nothing of the golden-haired woman. As far as she was concerned, Ilyena was only famous for having been killed by Lews Therin, along with her entire family. "Barid Bel," Elan went on, "like most men at the time, certainly found her to his taste. He courted for a while, as I remember, but gave up the chase after a while, I'm not sure why."

"You'd think he would do the exact opposite, though, wouldn't you?" she said. "As payback for stealing that position years ago. He could have taken her for himself just to spite Lews Therin."

Elan nodded. "He could have. I suppose it wouldn't have been too hard for him. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be." He shrugged. "And yet he didn't."

"He didn't seem particularly resentful. When did that change?" she wondered.

"I told you, it was an accumulation of several instances spread over the course of centuries, a build-up of small frustrations topped by bitter scorn. He kept it all inside for a long time, and it festered there, until he couldn't take it anymore. When he arrived at our camp, the first thing I asked him was the reason for his abrupt volte-face. He told me the last drop had been hearing Lews Therin telling his officers that without Barid Bel, he couldn't have done any of it. 'Let him try and achieve anything of worth now,' he said to me."

"Did you take him to Shayol Ghul yourself?" she asked.

"No. I was rather busy, you see, leading the Great Lord's forces against those of the Light," he said wryly. That was the first time he'd ever answered a question that involved the Shadow directly. "I asked Kamarile to take him there with all haste, and they were back before the day was over. I had him lead his own army the very next morning. He bested Lews Therin in the field, winning us the first great victory in almost a year."

"Did it make him feel any better?" she asked curiously.

He frowned at her. "An odd question. I don't think anyone ever joined the Shadow to 'feel better', pet. He only wanted to best Lews Therin, to crush him. Everything else was irrelevant to him."

"That's nice," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "And if he had, what then? If that was his whole reason for joining your side, what would have happened after he _had_ destroyed him?"

Elan shrugged. "I don't know. Does it matter? You really do ask the most bizarre and immaterial questions." On that note, he turned his attention back to his book.

Shaking her head, she approached the bookshelf, placing back Barid Bel Medar's biography where it belonged.


	8. What is dead may never die

She couldn't have said exactly how long she'd been here. As far as she knew, it had been at least seven or eight months. Sometimes she felt she'd always lived here. She rarely wondered about her family anymore. What was the point? She knew she would never see them again. She had resigned herself to that.

She had no idea what was happening out there in the world. Elan didn't mind sharing his knowledge of the Age of Legends, but any question about current events was met with a shrug and a shake of his head or nothing at all. Last week, after their conversation about Demandred and his motivations for joining the Shadow, she'd asked him if any of the other Forsaken were loose in the world. He had corrected her automatically – _'Chosen, pet, how many times must I remind you?'_ – but she had received no proper answer. He would prattle at length about the people they had been before pledging their souls to the Dark One – _'The Great Lord. Are you dense, pet?'_ – but rarely made mention of them after they'd become his cronies – not a word she'd ever used around him, she was not _that_ dense. As a result, she'd taken to call them by their former names, as he did most of the time.

It was incredible how knowing about their previous lives had diminished her fear of them – some of them, in any case. They were all dangerous, to be sure, but sometimes she couldn't help but compare them to children. Spoiled, petty children. But for the possible exception of Mierin Eronaile, the men seemed to be the worst in that regard, Nessosin most of all.

She could understand why most of them had turned to the Shadow, although their reasons were feeble at best, but Joar Addam Nessosin, who was now known as Asmodean, had only come over because someone else had won the prize he thought he'd deserved, a musical award of sorts. Elan had explained that, during the Age of Legends, people obtained status through public recognition. Apparently, being recognized as an artist had been the hardest path of all. He told her that Nessosin had dedicated his life to becoming the greatest musician of his time. She could understand that failing to receive his award must have been frustrating after spending so much time to obtain it, but to throw away everything to pledge his soul to the Shadow seemed an overreaction to say the least. Elan had merely shrugged when she'd pointed that out. She couldn't say whether he used the man's third name as a sign of respect or contempt, or both those things.

She wished she knew what was going on. _Something_ had to be happening, otherwise Elan wouldn't be here. She didn't know whether he'd managed to keep out of Shayol Ghul for the last three thousand years or had been freed from it only recently. She didn't dare ask.

Elan had never asked her anything about her life, which was a good thing, as far as she was concerned. Early in her captivity, she had devised a likely background story for herself, in case he ever questioned her. She hoped it might keep her family safe but, in all likelihood, he hadn't inquired because he already knew all there was to know.

She was beginning to like him. It amazed her, this ability to adapt even in the dreariest circumstances. A few months ago, the very thought would have sickened her. She knew she wasn't supposed to actually like him, that it wouldn't help her escape her present situation, only make it more tolerable, but she couldn't help it. Anyway, did it really matter anymore? If she was stuck here with him forever, she might as well make the best of it.

He remained here much more often than he used to. He would go away for a few days, a week at most, then come back for a day or two. They often practiced with their respective blades and sometimes he played the piano. She didn't know if he'd been considered a good musician in his days, as she possessed absolutely no musical notion herself, but she loved to hear him play. Recently, he had agreed to teach her how to play, although he hadn't gotten around to it yet. They had taken to speaking in the Old Tongue, so that she now felt as comfortable with it as with the Common Tongue.

She had just fallen asleep when she heard something crash on the floor next to her. Sitting up, she stared frantically around the room. Elan was sprawled on the ground beside the bed. It looked as if he had attempted to sit on the bed and fallen off of it. Was he drunk? She couldn't see clearly. The only light came from the fire in the other room. Getting out of bed, she approached him carefully. "Elan?" she whispered. He was lying on his stomach, so she turned him over, not an easy feat. She felt something wet on his chest. She couldn't make it out, but it smelled like blood. "Elan?" she repeated, louder this time. "Can you hear me?" He didn't move, didn't say anything. She felt at his throat for a heartbeat. It was faint, but it was there.

What to do? She couldn't even see the wound. The candle by her bed usually burned when she needed it to, seemingly on its own accord, but right now it remained desperately extinguished. She could try to drag him to the other room, where she could light one of the glowbulbs – remnants of the Age of Legends – but she might make everything worse by simply moving him. She needed to channel, to Heal him with _saidar_. But how? She had no idea how she'd done it last time. It had just happened. She tried to remember how she'd felt, what she'd done. She'd been angry and desperate and near hysterical; she'd started to shake him. Well, she certainly felt the same way. Should she try to shake him?

Abruptly she stood, slapping her forehead and cursing profusely. _You wool-brained idiot!_ She couldn't move him to the other room, but she could take one of the glowbulb here. Letting out a few more curses, she hurriedly brought back one of the artefacts and placed it near Elan's unmoving body. The white light showed her his face, pasty and pale. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. In a panicky rush, she felt for his pulse once more and found it even weaker than it had been a moment ago. Desperate, she removed his coat and shirt and winced at the sight of the wound. It looked very deep. Some blood was still leaking out of the gash. She started to panic in earnest this time, feeling tears running down her face. Suddenly, that sentiment of pure joy and peace filled her again, and this time she was very much aware of its power, of the ecstasy she felt at holding it.

She shook her head. She had to focus on the task at hand. She… did something with the Power, trying to sense how she could fix the wound. She wasn't sure how he was still alive, as whatever had made a hole through him seemed to have pierced his heart. She'd reflected before that maybe he didn't have one, that none of the Forsaken had one, but it seemed ridiculous now. Whatever else he might be, he was still human. Taking a deep breath, she guided the Power that was coursing through her into the wound, fixing the internal damage, knitting the skin whole again. She didn't think about what she was doing, didn't hesitate. It came naturally, as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

When it was done, she considered what to do with him. Eyeing the bed, she endeavoured to weave a thread to haul him up there. It took a few attempts, but she finally managed it. She felt exhausted, drained. _Saidar_ deserted her as soon as Elan rested safely on the bed. Then, without really thinking about what she was doing, she lay next to him on the narrow bed and fell asleep almost instantly.


	9. You disturb my natural emotions

She hadn't been able to remain asleep for long periods of time, instead waking every half-hour to make sure Elan still breathed, much like a new mother constantly checking on her sleeping baby. She was beginning to doze off once more when she felt his breathing change. He was finally awake. "I'm afraid I had to disobey your orders about not channeling," she said in a low voice. Her arm was laid across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

She heard him swallow and clear his throat. "I'll let it slide, just this once," he murmured.

"How magnanimous of you," she said wryly. He let out a weak chuckle.

They lay there for a long time in silence. She thought he fell asleep again after some time, and she drifted off as well, now that she was satisfied he wouldn't die. He was still there when she awoke hours later. They were in the same position as before; the bed really was too narrow for two people. "Elan?" she whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Have you always called me that?" he asked.

"I've been doing it for a while, yes," she answered truthfully. Months, really. "You never said anything about it."

"I hadn't noticed," he told her. "Have I ever asked your name?" he went on.

"You did, on my first day here. You don't remember?" she asked him uncertainly.

"I don't. Sorry," he added as an afterthought. At least that explained why he kept calling her 'pet' all the bloody time.

"It's Neya," she said. Her own name sounded odd after so long without hearing it.

"A fitting name. It means 'spirited' in the Old Tongue," he said.

"Yes, I know. I doubt that my parents knew that, however." She'd never had time to ask them. "It's certainly better than Betrayer of Hope, anyway," she went on without thinking, biting her lip in annoyance. That might have been off-limits.

He chuckled softly. She felt his chest shake beneath her arm. "It's less gloomy, I'll concede. Not so impressive in the fear-inspiring department, however," he went on wryly.

It was her turn to laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed. She hauled herself on one arm to look at him. He turned his face to her, meeting her eyes. "How many times do I have to save your life before you finally kiss me?" she whispered. She promptly felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. _Blood and ashes!_ She hadn't meant to say _that_ out loud.

She saw him flinch, his eyes widening. He looked horrified. "Why on earth would I do that?" he asked in a faint voice.

"I–" She cut off, not sure what to say. How could she cover this up? She took a deep breath, eyes closed. "It was just a quip," she went on with a forced smile. "I'm still tired from the Healing. Forget it." She almost fell off the bed in her haste to get away from him and practically ran into the other room.

* * *

 _Kiss her?_ By the blood falls, it had never even crossed his mind, not once since he'd brought her here nine months ago. She was pretty, he had to admit, though he was hardly an expert in that field. Women had never held much interest to him. Not that he was more inclined toward men; he simply wasn't very keen on intimacy in general. It hadn't occurred to him that she might think of him that way. Why would it? He had taken her from her home in the middle of the night, held her captive for almost a year. Hardly the sort of things to make a woman swoon, as far as he knew. She was barely old enough to be called a woman. How old could she be? Seventeen, eighteen? And he was… well, at least five hundred and twenty-nine years old. That's how old he was when he travelled to Shayol Ghul and became immortal.

Sighing, he heaved himself off the bed, stretching and marvelling at the fact that he was still alive. That wound should have been fatal. She was an amazing Healer, especially for one of this Age, and she hadn't even been trained yet. With proper tutoring, she would become a truly powerful channeler. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should simply Turn her to the Shadow, but the thought found no anchor in his mind. He found it difficult to concentrate on ideas, sometimes, a sure sign of the madness that had somehow permeated his brain. But if he knew he was insane, if he was aware of it, then was he truly insane? But more importantly – did it matter in any way? He would soon be freed of it, and everything else besides.

He joined the girl in the other room, in what he called his library. He possessed many books and artefacts from the Age of Legends and kept them in several secure locations – some of these places he had occupied for centuries, or even millennia, in this instance. She sat at the table, reading. She didn't lift her eyes when he walked in, though he saw her blush despite her obvious attempt at concealing her face with her hair. The book was yet another biography of Lews Therin – one from his early life, dating from decades before the Collapse. Had she figured out what was happening? Did she know that the Dragon had been Reborn? It didn't matter. There was nothing she could do to stop him, and she'd had at least two opportunities to kill him – or let him die – and chosen not to act on them. Of course, her own fate was linked to his. She could not escape this place without his help, not unless she somehow figured out how to Travel. The very idea was laughable.

He took the opportunity to study her, considering for the first time that she was in fact a female being. She was rather short, barely reaching his chest, with curves in all the right places. Her wavy dark brown hair fell lightly just below her shoulders. She had dimples around her mouth. She _was_ pretty. He hadn't been intimate with anyone in… centuries, at the very least, and he had never suffered from the lack of it. So why did he feel a sudden desire to touch her, to kiss her, just as she had suggested moments before? It could simply be her nature, he supposed, although that was a strange twist on what he knew of such people.

He heard her sigh and gave himself a shake, focusing on the present once more. She closed her book and started moving toward him hesitantly, though her hazel eyes fixed him with determination. She said nothing, simply taking his arm and pulling him along back toward the bedroom.

* * *

"You will what, pet?" he asked her some time later.

Feeling drowsy, she grunted something that she hoped sounded like ' _What?'_

"I heard you say this at some point, 'If you ever call me 'pet' again, I swear I will…' but I didn't quite catch what you would do if that were to happen," he clarified. She could almost _hear_ his smug smile.

"I'll let it slide, just this once," she muttered dryly. That made him chuckle. "Did you sleep?" she asked after a while.

"No. I never do," he answered in a sombre tone.

"Never? But–" She cut off with a frown. She had seen him sleep just the night before! Although, in all fairness, he might have been unconscious rather than asleep. She wanted to point out that people needed sleep to live, but realised that might not be his case. He was, after all, one of the Forsaken. Who knew exactly what that entailed? She closed her mouth, at a loss for something to say. The silence began to stretch.

"Do you have any idea what it's like, to be immortal? To know you could not die, even if you wanted to?" he asked eventually, as if he'd read her previous thought. It seemed to be a rhetorical question, so she said nothing. "I am like a ghost, unreal, barely even there. And quite mad besides," he added softly.

She wanted to comfort him, to say something that would make him feel better, but she knew no word would achieve that. Instead she tightened her grip on him, hugging him closer to her. After a while she drifted off to sleep once more. When she woke up, he was gone.


	10. The inevitability of human oblivion

She was seated in front of the piano, pushing hesitantly on the keys. She'd never actually touched the instrument before. Elan had promised he would teach her how to play, but he had been absent since his latest near-encounter with death and the events that followed. She resolved to ask him when he came back. Surely he _would_ come back eventually, wouldn't he?

She tried to match all the notes to the keys, playing them all one by one until she was satisfied she knew which was which. She began to play slowly, remembering the song as she moved her fingers across the board.

"How long have you been practicing that?" Elan asked from behind her.

She didn't jump – she was getting quite used to him appearing at random – but she felt relieved that he was here, at long last. "I've never even touched it before. I just wanted to try it, that's all." She got up, turning to face him. "You've been gone a long time." It had been almost two weeks; he hadn't been gone that long in months. And of course, he had to stay away just after they'd been intimate for the first time. She'd been afraid she'd scared him off, laughable as that may sound.

"I've been busy." It was clear from his tone that he was not going to expand on the matter. "If that was truly your first attempt, you must have been a pianist in another life, pet."

She blushed faintly, turning back to the instrument. "What is that song, anyway?"

" _Odyssey of the Fireflies_ ," he answered.

"Did you write it?"

"No, not me." He grimaced. "Nessosin."

"Oh. Well, it's beautiful. Not that I know anything about music," she added hastily. "Did you know him well? Before, I mean." There was no need to specify before what. He had rarely mentioned Asmodean except to tell her of his motivations for joining the Shadow.

He was silent for so long that she assumed he would ignore the question. Then he spoke again. "We were… lovers. For a while. A very short while," he muttered.

For a moment she was too stunned to speak. She had been quite sure he liked women – for obvious reasons. Maybe he liked both? Was that a thing? She had no idea. She had received enough mocking comments on her ignorance regarding most matters to know better than to ask, however. She wasn't sure what to say, so she decided to return to the initial subject. "Was it a popular song during the Age of Legends?"

"Not at all. It was never released to the public. He created many songs that never made it outside of his studio," he told her.

"Studio?" she wondered aloud.

"A room designed to record music in. Nessosin had several of those, in fact." He sat down in front of the piano. "I believe I said I would teach you. I have some time now, if you wish." She sat down eagerly on the narrow seat beside him, smiling. "This one is called _The March of Death_."

* * *

She looked up from her book as he appeared near the fire. She was glad he was coming back more regularly. She walked up to him and hugged him tightly. She felt him tense, as if he'd forgotten she was perfectly allowed to do that now. Although she'd never done it before, admittedly. "What are you doing?" he asked uneasily. He just stood there stiffly, seemingly afraid to move, obviously not knowing how to respond. It made her chuckle.

"It's called a hug," she answered wryly.

"I know what it's called, pet, but why are you doing it?"

"You've been gone a long time," she purred.

"It's only been three days," he told her indignantly.

She let go of him. "I know. But I've missed you," she said, standing on tip-toe to kiss him.

"Is it really worth the bother?" he asked with a dramatic sigh.

She grinned at him. "It is to me. Come on," she added firmly, taking his arm and leading him to the bedroom. She had to initiate action, because if she left it to him, it would never happen. It wasn't that it bothered him, not exactly. He simply didn't care one way or another, not until it had started in earnest, anyway.

As they lay in bed some time later, she decided to inquire about what had been troubling her for a while now. "Do you prefer men?" she asked him hesitantly. "I mean, you did have an affair with Nessosin."

He didn't look at her when he answered. "That was not uncommon in the Age of Legends. Men sleeping with men, or women with women. People were very open-minded about these things. Nessosin… I'm not sure how it happened. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing," he said matter-of-factly. "I have no… preference, as you call it."

"Oh. Did you have other lovers, then? Were you ever married? It wasn't mentioned in any of your biographies."

He snickered. "Married? No, never that. I had a few lovers. Very few, compared with the average man of these days. Or woman," he said casually. "My interests lay elsewhere."

She was well aware of that. He was very quick to turn any topic into a lecture on philosophy or, if she was particularly unlucky, on theology. She was always careful to ask very specific questions to limit his opportunities to do so because, often as not, he left her far behind with his complicated theories. She felt that now was a good time to change the subject. "What do you know about the Ages that came before the Age of Legends?" That actually had a good chance to turn theological, so she hastened to clarify her question. "I mean, what happened just before the Age of Legends? It must have been a dull era, if the next Age was called something so glorious."

"It wasn't called that in our days, pet. Ages are named by historians, centuries or millennia later. But to answer your question, not much was known of the Ages that came before. Specialists discovered evidence of life dating as far back as billions of years ago. We found many skeletons buried deep underground, humans and creatures of all sorts. We know the world undergoes periods of glaciation, and that, at some point, there was an event called a nuclear winter, but that it must be differentiated from a glaciation. We know the term because we found relics that mentioned it. Apparently, some of our ancestors destroyed the world, or most of it, with unidentified weapons of such power that the whole world had to go in hibernation for a very long time. It is believed that the human race, or what was left of it, went underground for the duration of the event. It is all speculation, however. We have little evidence to back the theory. As I have explained before, the Wheel turns, bringing the same pattern over and over again. Humanity builds itself a world, then destroys it. They destroyed their world with weapons, bringing their own end upon themselves. We destroyed ours with madness, which we brought upon ourselves. Nature reasserts itself while humanity gathers its leftovers, and it all starts anew. It has been thus since the beginning of time and it will ever be so, until time itself is destroyed, when the Great Lord of the Dark wins the ultimate battle, the only one that matters." There was no escaping the gloomy lecture now, not unless she managed to divert him. He complained half-heartedly for a moment, but she managed eventually.


	11. Prepare to gawk and grovel and stare

She was becoming increasingly worried. He had told her that he'd be back in a couple of days and that everything would be over soon. What _everything_ was supposed to be, she did not know. That had been three weeks ago. Had something happened to him? He had almost died twice already, in the year she'd known him. Could he have actually died this time, or was he simply unable to come back here for some reason? She didn't know, and that annoyed her.

She tried to keep herself busy, playing the piano, reading, cleaning, practicing her sword forms. She was dusting the bedroom when she heard voices in the other room, a woman and a man. She was certain the man wasn't Elan, although she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. She stopped what she was doing, placing the duster carefully on the bed. _Tsorovan_ was in the library, and she cursed herself silently for not keeping it close at hands. To be fair, there was no way she could have anticipated this. There had never been anyone else in here for as long as she'd been around. Should she hide? Where _could_ she hide? Under the bed? That seemed silly. Surely they would find her. Before she could make up her mind, a decision was made for her.

A tall woman erupted in the bedroom, looking regal in a snow white dress. She was incredibly beautiful, with dark hair and ivory-pale skin. Mierin Eronaile. It had to be her.

The thought that Lanfear was standing a few feet away from her ought to have terrified her beyond sanity, but she remained oddly calm. Elan despised the other Forsaken, had called her a presumptuous hussy on several occasions. It never failed to make her laugh, and that was probably the reason why she found it difficult to conjure anything but disdain for the woman, who was presently eyeing her up and down.

"Who are you?" she demanded haughtily, voice cracking like a whip. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm Ishamael's pet," was the only answer she could think of. She tried to make her voice as neutral as she could.

Frowning, the Forsaken muttered something under her breath. The man who had arrived with her came to stand in the doorway. He was a tall man, if not quite as tall as Elan, with dark, deep-set eyes and long dark hair. Could that be Nessosin? She wasn't certain. Elan had been quite vague about the man who had once been his lover. For a very short while, as he never failed to add.

He eyed her quite thoroughly, smiling. "His pet, eh? Who would have thought?" His grin looked almost feral.

"Do shut your mouth, you fool." Mierin turned to him and said something in a low voice. The man looked startled, his grin slipping off his face, and he gave Neya a sharp glance. He replied something inaudible in return and they both looked at each other, nodding. Suddenly, Neya found herself unable to move. It had to be the One Power. She wondered who was channeling. Probably the man. Elan had told her she would be able to see another woman's weaves and she couldn't see anything, although Mierin seemed to be enveloped in a bright light. Was that what it looked like to be holding _saidar_?

"How long have you been here?" the other woman asked. "What do you know of Ishamael's plans?"

"I've been here for about a year, maybe more." The man looked even more astonished than he had a moment before. Lanfear looked on impassively. "I don't know anything about his plans."

"You expect me to believe that?" Mierin asked with a sneer. "A year, and you don't know _anything_? I suggest you try harder, _pet_ , or you will regret it."

"I really don't, I swear. Great Mistress," she added after a brief hesitation. She thought that was what she was supposed to call her. "He told me nothing of what is happening. I didn't even know you were… ah… free. Great Mistress," she repeated for good measure.

The woman seemed to be considering her words. The man stared at Neya, as if trying to puzzle her out. He was the one who spoke first. "You don't even know that the Drag–" he started to say, but Lanfear cut him off.

" _You spineless idiot, I told you I would do the talking!_ " The man recoiled slightly when she yelled at him. She said it in the Old Tongue, but Neya understood it, of course. She and Elan had spoken almost exclusively in the Old Tongue during the last few weeks. Mierin visibly struggled to calm herself, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she was all regal arrogance once more. "Ishamael is dead, girl," she said crisply. "For good, this time," she added with a bitter twist of her mouth.

It was exactly as she had feared, except that she hadn't really thought it could be true. He was supposed to be immortal! She could feel panic and grief and anger rising in her, but she had to maintain her composure. If Mierin noticed how badly she hurt her with that information, she would use it against her without a moment's hesitation. "I see," she said, and was relieved when her voice didn't shake. "Where does that leave me, then? Great Mistress," she added hastily. She had to be careful now. Without Elan to back her up, she was on her own, against two of the most powerful Forsaken.

"That leaves you to grovel at my feet, _pet_ , and beg for your pathetic life!" Mierin said, her dark eyes blazing with scorn.

Neya fell to her knees and, doing her best to sound meek and subdued, she begged for her pathetic life.


	12. Hello darkness, my old friend

She thought she was awake. It was difficult to be certain, with the pitch black that permeated her tiny cell. She couldn't see anything. She had no idea how long she'd been in here. It could have been a year or a week. Water and food – if it could be called that – appeared out of nowhere at regular intervals. She was afraid she would lose her mind. She was afraid she _was_ losing her mind. There were no sounds. She was alone. Unequivocally and utterly alone.

Lanfear had brought her here after their… meeting… and she hadn't seen the Forsaken since then, or anyone else for that matter. She shuddered as she remembered those hours passed in her company. Nessosin – it _had_ been him; Mierin had called him that at some point – hadn't taken part. The Musician had simply settled in the comfortable armchair with a bottle of wine, his back to them. As far as she could tell, he had stared at the fire the entire time. Mierin hadn't been convinced that Neya didn't know anything, despite her impeccable – if she did say so herself – grovelling. Maybe she had grovelled too well. In any case, the hours that followed had echoed with Neya's screams of pain.

* * *

Time passed. It had to be passing. That was what time did, was it not? Light, let her keep her sanity.

* * *

There came a light. It was faint at first, distant. All of sudden, it was right in front of her, stabbing her eyes with its bright glare. "Wake up." A woman's sharp voice. Mierin?

"I'm awake," she tried to say. Her voice came out as a croak, almost inaudible.

"You will do exactly as I say. Put one foot wrong and I will make you wish for a quick death. Is that clear?" the woman asked as she opened the cell's door. Neya nodded. Her eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the light. She could make out the other woman, who appeared as a blurry white form. "Then come with me. Quickly." With that, the Forsaken turned on her heels, taking the light with her. Neya scrambled to her feet, lurching forward and almost falling. She found her balance at the last moment and followed in the direction of the light.

She walked into in a large room, lavishly decorated in white and silver. Mierin sat on a high-backed chair and Neya fell to her knees in front of her. "It would appear that you are properly cowed. A month spent in my dungeon will do that," she said conversationally. "You belong to me now, _pet_. You will serve me, and only me. You will obey my every command. If you do not, I will destroy everyone you love," she went on threateningly. When she'd realised Neya truly knew nothing, she'd set to extract every bit of knowledge she could from her. Who she was, where she came from, the names of her friends and family. In the end, she'd even confessed her feelings for Elan. She had left nothing out. She would have said anything to make the pain stop.

Most of it had been made up, however.

She'd had to admit to sharing Elan's bed, of course. The woman had probably guessed it already. Everything else had contained just enough truth as to appear credible. In the early days of her captivity, she had carefully crafted herself an entirely fake background, in case Ishamael ever felt the urge to act as Mierin had. It was clear that Elan hadn't told Lanfear about her, so the lie had been made that much easier. She wasn't sure how she'd managed with the pain – the blinding, searing pain – but she had. If anything good ever came out of this, it would be that her family, at least, would be safe.

Unfortunately, she didn't think she would survive another session. Her best hope at this point was to act subdued and docile, to grovel and fawn just the right amount, so as not to raise suspicion. Truth be told, she didn't know why she was still alive. What did the Forsaken want with her?

"Do we understand each other?" Mierin demanded.

Neya nodded emphatically. "Yes, Great Mistress. It will be as you command."

"Good. I am going to tell you what you need to know to accomplish your task," she said, "so you had better pay attention. I will not repeat myself."

She told her that the Dragon had been Reborn. The Forsaken were all loose, though some of them, like Ishamael, had already met their demise at the hands of Lews Therin – as she called him. The Dragon had accomplished several prophecies already. He had seized the Stone of Tear and taken _Callandor_ , the Sword that is not a Sword. He was now roaming the Aiel Waste, gathering His people.

Nessosin had tried to put his hands on an important artefact in Rhuidean – it appeared to be a city of sorts – but Lews Therin had defeated him. Mierin had come to an agreement with the Dragon: he would keep Nessosin by his side as a teacher, for no one else could teach him how to wield _saidin_ , and Lanfear would make sure Nessosin didn't deviate from this course. She had planted a shield on him, a block that would allow him to channel no more than a trickle of the Power. Additionally, Lews Therin had severed Nessosin's bond to the Great Lord. He was now as vulnerable as any mortal and susceptible to the taint besides. Lanfear wanted Neya to keep an eye on both of them and make certain both were fulfilling their parts. Somehow, she was also supposed to defend Nessosin against the other Chosen who would surely seek to destroy him, now that he had fallen from the Great Lord's favour.

She had no idea how she was supposed to infiltrate the Dragon's growing Aiel army and get close enough to him to watch his every move, or Nessosin's for that matter, but Lanfear couldn't be bothered by such trivialities. The Great Mistress was confident her little pet would find a way.

Without further ado, Mierin opened a… hole… in the air. A gateway, she called it. It suddenly came to Neya that she couldn't see anything the other woman wove. Had she been cut off from the Source? She dared not ask. She was probably shielded, at the very least. But why couldn't she see the weaves? She had no time to ponder. The gateway opened in the middle of nowhere and Neya stared in dismay at the bare, rocky landscape. Lanfear indicated the city in the far distance and practically pushed her through the opening. Before it closed, almost as an afterthought, she told her to run as fast as she could toward Rhuidean, if she didn't want to freeze to death. With that, the gateway closed.

Was the woman mad? She could hardly freeze in this heat. Blood and ashes! She had been here for less than a minute and already felt her mouth drying. Rhuidean seemed to be three or four miles distant, although she was not a good judge of these things. Sighing, she set off toward the city.


	13. It's a small world after all

It was night when she finally reached Rhuidean. Incredibly, she _was_ freezing. The temperature had started dropping an hour ago and hadn't stopped since. Before she even reached the outskirts of the city, a giant man with dark red hair had grabbed her arm and asked who she was and what she was doing here. She told him she was looking for Jasin Natael. That was the name Mierin said Nessosin took for himself in the Waste. It seemed to have absolutely no effect on the man. He accompanied her to a cluster of tents near a large, empty fountain and offered her a blanket, which she gratefully wrapped around herself. They remained there for a long time. She didn't know what they were waiting for.

An hour later, a tent flap finally opened and a group of women came out. Neya had been sitting on the edge of the dried-up fountain, staring blearily at the ground, shivering with cold despite the blanket. The women were all taller than Neya, except for one, who was even shorter. She was a pale woman with dark hair and large brown eyes. There was something odd about her face. Neya couldn't quite put an age to her.

The man who had brought her here addressed one of the taller women, who looked like a grandmother with her white hair and creased face. "Wise One, this one arrived an hour ago out of nowhere, blue with cold. She says she is looking for the man Jasin Natael."

They all eyed her up and down, as if examining a strange beast. The woman – the Wise One – was the first to speak. "Who are you, girl?" Her voice was reedy but strong.

"My name is Neya, Wise One." It seemed to be the appropriate title. She didn't say anything else, instead waiting for the older woman to speak.

Another woman spoke. She was slim and taller than the Wise One, with blue eyes and white hair, although her face looked improbably young. She seemed to be addressing the Wise One. "She can channel, Bair. She is strong." The older woman gave a small nod and opened her mouth to speak, but Neya was saved from whatever she was about to say by the appearance of two more women emerging from the tent. They both looked much younger than everyone else. The first was tall, with red hair and bright blue-green eyes. The other, as short as Neya herself, looked stunningly familiar. Why, if not for that tanned skin, she would have been the spitting image of–

"Neya?" the second young woman whispered incredulously, staring.

Neya blinked in shock. "Egwene?" she murmured.

The girl stood there frozen in place for half a second before taking a few hasty steps toward her and throwing her arms around her. "Light, it _is_ you. I can't believe it! I thought… We all assumed…" She trailed off, taking a small step back to look at her. "Neya, we thought you were dead," she said in a low voice. "What happened to you?"

The other women were taking it all in, observing the scene quietly but keenly. Before Neya could answer, the ageless woman spoke. "Egwene, do you know this young woman?" she asked crisply.

Egwene half-turned to her, amazement still painted on her tanned face. "I do, Moiraine. She's–"

"Egwene, wait. Please," Neya interrupted her. "I'm sorry, but I need to talk to Jasin Natael. It's important. Do you know where I can find him?"

Egwene frowned at her, obviously confused. "Natael? Rand's bard?"

It was Neya's turn to scowl. "Rand's bard? Rand is here?" she asked dubiously.

"Yes. Mat is here too," she added. "Wait until he sees you! He will be…" She trailed off once more, looking at her with concern. "Neya? Are you alright?"

She knew the blood must have drained from her face; she felt faint. "Mat is here?" she repeated, dread tinting her voice. He couldn't be. After everything she'd been through to keep them all safe, they couldn't be _here_ , of all places, where the danger was strongest. It wasn't fair. And what on earth were they doing here? Inhaling deeply, she tried to make her voice steady. "I can't see him right now. I need to find Natael," she repeated stubbornly. "Why would Rand have a bard?" she asked abruptly. That didn't make any sense.

"Rand appointed Natael as Court Bard of the Dragon Reborn," Egwene said with a faint grimace of distate.

Neya felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. "Rand is the Dragon Reborn?" Her voice was a bare whisper. Egwene nodded, a slight frown creasing her face. " _Rand al'Thor_ is the Dragon Reborn?" she said again, louder this time. They were all staring at her now.

Neya started to laugh. She didn't know what else to do. The sound reminded her vaguely of Elan's mad laughter.

* * *

She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Lanfear had referred to the Dragon Reborn as Lews Therin. Neya had seen pictures of the man; she had assumed his reincarnation would look as he had when he was known only as the Dragon. She had most definitely _not_ expected Rand bloody al'Thor, of all people, to turn out to be the man who would both save and destroy the world. It changed everything, of course.

The Aiel and the ageless woman had pestered her with questions and, when they saw she wasn't going to be bullied into answering them, they had turned to Egwene. But Neya had been inflexible: she had to see Natael right away. It was urgent. Lives were at stakes. She could not explain. Finally, reluctantly, they had agreed to lead her to the building Rand had taken for himself.

There were two women guarding the entrance, both rather tall. It seemed to be an Aiel thing, as were the red hair and clear eyes. Could it mean that Rand was Aiel, somehow? His height and colouring had always set him apart from everyone else in the Two Rivers.

The Wise One asked if the _Car'a'carn_ was inside. The Chief of Chiefs, Neya translated automatically from the Old Tongue. It appeared to be what the Aiel called Rand. The guards started to shake their head in response when a soft voice came from behind them. They all turned to face the man who was walking toward them.

"I'm right here, Moiraine. What is it this time? Couldn't it wait until morning?" he asked resignedly. Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn. He seemed even taller than she remembered, and larger too, more muscular. His dark red hair was tousled and his eyes looked tired. He was dressed in a fancy-looking green coat with gold embroidery. When no one answered, he eyed them all wearily, then did a double-take when catching sight of her. His eyes widened in shock. "Neya?" he asked in a puzzled voice. She gave him a small grin. Suddenly he was looming over her and crushing her in his arms. He was indeed a lot stronger than he used to be. "Light!" was all he seemed able to manage to say at the moment.

She'd been wondering how she was going to get him alone, to tell him about Lanfear and Ishamael and everything else. This seemed like the best opportunity. Steeling herself, she murmured as softly as she could while he was still hugging her. "We need to talk about Nessosin," she said.

He pulled away from her as if he'd been goosed, glaring at her for a second before regaining his composure. His face became carefully guarded. Everyone was watching them attentively. Finally, he jerked his head toward the building. "Come with me," he said harshly. When the other women started to follow, he looked briefly back over his shoulder. "Just her. Alone. That is an order, Moiraine," he added firmly. The women froze in their tracks, staring at Neya. She heard Egwene call out to him, then to her, but she was already following him inside. She didn't look back.


	14. Crazy little thing called love

They came before a carved wooden door and Rand stopped in front of it, looking intensely at it for a long moment. He must have set wards around the room, Neya assumed. Finally he opened the door, gesturing for her to step inside. It was a vast space, almost bare but for a large bed and a smaller cot placed at opposite ends of the room, and a few cushions scattered on the floor. The cot was occupied by Nessosin, who sat gloomily plucking at the cords of his harp. He didn't raise his head when they walked in. He seemed to be muttering to himself.

Rand sat down on one of the cushions and motioned for her to do the same. "Wine?" he offered flatly. She nodded and soon two goblets were floating from across the room. She took the one which hovered closer to her and took a sip. Thanks to Elan, she'd become quite good at appreciating wine; this one was drinkable at best. She set the goblet down on the floor next to her. "How did you get here?" he demanded.

Nessosin finally roused himself from his sulk at the tone in the Dragon Reborn's voice. When he saw her he practically jumped on his feet and scrambled toward them. "My Lord Dragon, this woman is dangerous. She's a channeler, and she's strong. She's Lanfear's creature, my Lord Dragon. And she was Ishamael's before that," he spoke rapidly and looked agitated. "She cannot be trusted."

"Be silent, Natael," Rand said in a soft voice. The older man's mouth snapped shut audibly. He looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Slowly, he walked back to his cot and sat down, glaring at her. Rand turned his attention back on Neya as if nothing had happened. "Well?"

"Rand, I think it's best if he doesn't hear what I have to tell you," she said hesitantly. Rand seemed so cold, so distant, so different from the boy she had grown up with. She understood why, of course, but she was almost scared of him.

He made a small gesture with his right hand. "He can't hear us," he said simply. She nodded. Taking a deep breath, she told him everything.

* * *

It took longer than she would have thought. "I'm probably leaving some details out, but most of what E… Ishamael told me concerned the Age of Legends and what the other Forsaken were like before they become who they are now," she finished at last. She had left nothing out; nothing that mattered, anyway. Rand's face never changed.

He appeared to be carefully considering everything she had said. "So Lanfear sent you to insure Natael's… loyalty… and to keep him safe at the same time?" he asked her slowly.

"And to make sure he was teaching you properly," she added. "She didn't say if or when she was going to ask for reports from me, though. As far as I know, she could be appearing at any time. And I probably wasn't supposed to tell you all of this, although she didn't expressly forbid it. Of course, she wasn't aware that we knew each other. She seemed utterly convinced I would do everything she ordered without question," she said.

"So you need to stay close to me and Natael," he stated. "I can't think of a reason why you would remain around us all the time, especially him," he went on, frowning.

"I think I do," she said with a sigh. "I've been thinking about it on my way here. I didn't know it would be you I'd have to convince, so I had to come up with a story, a good reason to be looking for Natael," she continued. "I was going to pretend to be his lover."

Rand's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, this was not what he had expected. "But that's hardly a story!" he exclaimed. "And it doesn't explain why you're here. Or why you left home in the first place. What did you tell Egwene?"

"Nothing yet. And here's the rest of the story," she went on in a low voice, even though she knew no one else was listening. "I ran away to look for adventure. I met Natael at some point and we became lovers. Then we had an argument. He went his way and I went mine. But woolheaded girl that I am, I couldn't forget him and have been looking for him ever since, finally tracking him to this _kjasic_ place."

Rand was staring at her, incredulous. "You do realise what everyone will think of you if you tell them that," he said. "Egwene especially. Mat might understand, but–"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" she cut him off sharply. "Don't you think I would prefer to pass as the hero in shiny armour who comes to rescue your sorry hide?" she asked bitterly. "Do you have any idea what it's been like for me, this past year? _Do_ you, my Lord Dragon?" she went on with a sneer. She didn't let him answer. "In any case, I'd rather pass for a love-struck ninny than a Darkfriend," she told him sourly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" he told her, red-faced. He took a deep breath. "Neya, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you have been through. But you have to understand that the world has changed since you've gone. _I've_ changed, and Mat, and Egwene," he went on softly. "Maybe her most of all," he murmured, almost too low for her to hear. He gave himself a shake. "It will do, I suppose. But how do you explain your wandering in the Waste and surviving?"

"I can channel. Surely a stubborn channeler could have made her way through this Light-cursed land?" she asked pointedly.

He gave her a small shrug. "It will have to do," he said again. Standing, he made a small gesture in Natael's direction. The man appeared to be asleep, but his eyes opened as soon as he heard Rand address him. "Natael, we need to talk."

* * *

After they finally convinced the one-time Forsaken to play along with their little scheme, Neya fell asleep on the bed and only woke up around noon. Natael was still in the room, plucking at his harp and scowling at nothing in particular. He barely glanced at her when she got up. "You will have to do better than that when we're around people, Jay," she said with a thin smile.

He frowned at her. "Jay?"

"I can't just call you Natael like everyone else. We're supposed to be lovers, remember? Unless you would prefer something cheesier?" she asked derisively. "I can think of a few nicknames for you, pumpkin."

"Jay is fine. Well, it's not, but it will do. There's no one around right now, however," he stated with a wide gesture encompassing the whole room. "I expect proper respect from you when we're alone, little girl," he went on contemptuously.

She snorted. "You deserve as much respect as a poisonous snake. Less, in fact," she told him. "After all, the snake cannot help the fact that it is poisonous, it was simply born this way. _You_ chose to pledge yourself to the Shadow and become a murderous tyrant out of sheer spite." She grimaced. "The snake is probably more human than you are."

He glared at her silently for a moment before going back to his harp. She recognised the tune: it was _The March of Death_. She felt a sudden surge of grief. She couldn't stay here a moment longer.

Rand told her that she was free to come and go as she pleased. The women who lived in the building – the Maidens, Rand called them – kept a close watch on her as she strode through the wide halls. When she reached the entrance, she set to find Mat. She would have to face him sooner or later.


	15. How far you are from home

She found Mat half an hour later, playing dice with a group of Aiel. A woman was sitting beside him, grinning at him. She was pretty, with short golden hair and pale blue eyes. She looked up as Neya approached them and put a possessive arm around Mat's shoulders. Mat glanced up at Neya, shielding his eyes against the bright glare of the noon sun.

Considering the endless string of curses spilling from his mouth when he finally recognised her, neither Rand nor Egwene had told him she was here. "Blood and bloody ashes!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Burn my eyes, is this some kind of joke?" he asked around.

"No, it's just me, Mat. Nice to see you, too," she told him with a small grin.

"Blood and ashes," he repeated, softly this time. He moved closer to her, carefully, as if afraid she would take flight. He stopped in front of her, squinting. "Is it really you?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm the one who put itchy powder in your underpants three years ago, yes. Sorry about that," she said, her grin widening.

"I can't bloody believe it. Burn you, we thought you were dead!" he said with a scowl. "Do you have any idea what it's been like since you disappeared? We–" He cut off abruptly, shaking his head. He struggled visibly for a short while, muttering under his breath. "Are you alright?" he asked her, eyes suddenly filled concern. "What happened? Where in the Pit of Doom have you been?"

"Well, I wasn't anywhere near the Pit of Doom. It's a long story." She hesitated. "I'd rather not tell it in front of everyone." The dice players had interrupted their game to listen in on their conversation and were gazing at her curiously. "We have a lot to catch up on. Maybe you could show me around a bit?"

He nodded briefly. "Good idea." He turned to the blond woman. "I'll be back later. I need to talk to my little sister," he told her. The woman looked slightly startled but didn't say anything. Mat put a hand on Neya's shoulder, giving her a small push. "Let's go."

* * *

They walked in silence for a while. They arrived near one of the fountains in a partially shaded square. There was no one around that she could see. "Let's just sit there," Mat said, indicating a large stone. When they were settled, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Alright. Tell me everything," he said.

"You first," she countered brightly.

He looked at her indignantly. " _Me_? Burn you, you're the one who vanished without a trace! I'll tell you about what happened to me when I've had some satisfying answers as to your whereabouts during the past year, young lady," he said with mock severity. He could never remain serious for more than five minutes at a time, could Mat. She saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly.

"Fine, fine. You got me," she said with a sly smile. "But you have to keep it to yourself," she told him gravely. He nodded sharply and, for the second time in less than a day, she recounted her story.

She had to arrange it to fit in Natael, of course. Rand had told her that no one knew who Natael really was, so she had to leave out his real identity and give Mat the version she had come up with instead. She purposefully omitted some minor details as well, like sharing Ishamael's bed or being tortured by Lanfear. There was no need to burden him with such trifles. "That's pretty much it. Any questions?" she asked wryly.

"About a thousand, but let's save that for later. I don't even want to think about Natael's part in the story," he replied with a grimace. "How about a good scolding instead?" he asked.

"You're going to _scold_ me for being abducted by one – no, two! – of the Forsaken? I didn't exactly ask for it, you know!" she said, outrage tinting her voice.

"Alright, I was just teasing. I'm not sure what to make of it, that's all. It's a lot to take in," he muttered, adding in a few curses for good measure. "Are you alright, though? Lanfear really didn't hurt you at all?" He sounded a little sceptical.

She gave a noncommittal grunt, shrugging slightly. It was time to change the subject. "What about you, then? How did you get mixed up in this merry mess?"

He told her about Moiraine showing up in Emond's Field just before Bel Tine, only a month after Neya disappeared. He recounted their journey through Andor and the Ways, their struggle at the Eye of the World, Rand discovering he could channel, Moiraine telling him he was the Dragon Reborn. He depicted the hunt for the Horn of Valere and the dagger that had poisoned his mind since they'd walked into Shadar Logoth. The Seanchan invasion and the battle at Falme, fought with the Heroes of the Horn, Artur Hawkwing himself at their lead. His visit to Tar Valon and the White Tower, where he was finally Healed. And just recently, the taking of the Stone of Tear, Rand's proclamation and his journey into the Waste. After a brief hesitation, he removed the scarf he wore around his neck and told her about a red, twisted doorway that led into another world and his ensuing meetings with the Aelfinn and Eelfinn, the answers and memories they had given him. How they had cheated him and attempted to kill him.

It took much longer than her own story. Her friends hadn't contented themselves with sitting in front of a fire and reading books about the Age of Legends. They had had adventures beyond what even she could have dreamed of. There was a long silence after he finished, during which she tried to digest everything.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, making Mat chuckle. "We've been here a long time, longer than I thought. I'm starving," he said, getting up and stretching languorously. "Let's get something to eat."

"I don't suppose you've heard from home," she said a moment later. It wasn't really a question; he had been gone almost as long as she had. She wasn't surprised when he shook his head mutely in reply.

They walked back to the main square, where Egwene stood waiting for them, hands on hips. She looked at them, scowling, as if they'd spent the afternoon preparing one of their pranks. "There you are," she told Neya, ignoring Mat entirely. "Moiraine has been looking for you all day," she said bossily. _She hasn't changed that much_ , _it seems,_ Neya mused. "Come on," she said, turning around.

She took a few determined steps before realising Neya wasn't following. "Egwene, I'm hungry. I'll find her later," she promised the other girl. Taking Mat's arm, they went the opposite way in search of something to eat.


	16. Ask me again and I'll tell you the same

They ate something called _gara_ , which turned out to be a rather large poisonous lizard that tasted like chicken. They sat with a group of Aielmen sharing a small fire. One of them, the same man who had brought her to the women's tent the previous night, made a few passes at her, subtly but steadily, until Mat put his foot down – literally, on the other man's foot. Her suitor only laughed, winking at her conspiratorially.

They played a game of dice afterward and were joined by the short-haired woman who had seemed so close to Mat earlier. She was introduced as Melindhra, of the Jumai Sept – not that Neya had any clue what that was supposed to mean. After a while the woman grew obviously bored and sat closer to Mat, whispering in his ear. He quickly lost interest in the game and they both got up soon after that.

He turned to Neya. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked with a leer, an arm around Melindhra's waist.

She grinned back at him. "Go ahead," she said, standing up. "I have to find Moiraine anyway."

Mat scowled darkly. "Are you sure you want to go on alone? I can come with you tomorrow, if you want," he told her.

"I'm fine. Go on," she repeated, making a shooing motion at them. Mat nodded and they both walked away.

Neya started toward the tent she'd first be taken to the night before. The dice players called after her, asking her to come back. She gave them a small wave without turning around, but it only made them call louder. She chuckled softly to herself.

She made her way slowly, unhurriedly, pausing to ask directions twice after she'd gotten lost. The city was larger than she had first assumed. Finally she arrived where she wanted, only to realise that the women were inside the tent. She could hear them chatter and found that she didn't want to join them. She looked around for a place to settle to wait but movement to her right caught her eye.

A tall, hulking man was whirling around with a sword a few paces away. She approached him casually then spotted a practice blade lying nearby. Picking it up, she smoothly undercut the man's next form with one of her own. He stood frozen for a moment, obviously startled, but she gave him a small grin and shifted easily into a walking stance, stepping to his right. His shock faded as fast as it had come and he followed her, moving like a stalking leopard.

They fought for a long time, until her arms ached and sweat covered her from head to toe, despite the cold of night, but she didn't stop. It was good to be holding a sword again, although she regretted having to abandon her _yatagan_ behind, the fancy blade Elan had given her.

The man came to a sudden halt, motioning to his left with a jerk of his head. The women had finally come out of the tent and were watching their little duel dispassionately. Moiraine and Egwene were there, as well as the grandmotherly Wise One Neya had met the previous night. She turned back to the man, pleading him with her eyes to keep on fighting, but he simply gave a small bow and murmured something in the Old Tongue. _True blood of Manetheren?_ She frowned at him. What an odd thing to say. Manetheren had been dead for centuries, according to the history book she'd read in the first days of her captivity. Before she had time to wonder about it, however, the women rounded on her.

"Neya Cauthon, we would speak with you," the Wise One intoned.

Snorting with laughter, Neya shook her head. "Al'Kane, Wise One, not Cauthon. He's not my husband, you know," she told them.

They all frowned at her, except Egwene, who was chewing her lower lip. "But he is your brother, is he not?" Moiraine asked softly, giving a brief sidelong glance in Egwene's direction. "Your name–"

"My name is what it is, Moiraine Damodred," Neya cut her off. "Deal with it. Now, I believe you wanted to see me," she went on, drawing herself up as much as she could. "Here I am."

Moiraine took a few steps in her direction. "Will you join me in my room, where we can talk privately?" she asked evenly. She was shorter than Neya. Not by much, and she made up for it in sheer presence, but it made Neya slightly uncomfortable. She had always felt more at ease around people who were taller than herself, which was everyone, usually. With a shrug, she gestured for the Aes Sedai to lead the way.

* * *

"Would you like some wine?" Moiraine asked once they were in her room.

Neya shook her head, sitting down gingerly on one of the cushions resting on the ground. Her muscles ached from her earlier skirmish. The man had shadowed them all the way to the room, never speaking, and now appeared to be guarding the door. "Just water, if you have any, thank you," she replied politely.

The Aes Sedai handed her a goblet filled with water and sat down opposite her on another cushion. "How did you come here?" she asked without preamble. "Are you or are you not Matrim's sister?"

Neya smiled wryly. "Did you drag me here so you could pelt me with questions, Aes Sedai?"

Moiraine gave her a level look. "Nobody dragged you here, girl. But yes, I do wish to ask you a few questions," she said coolly.

"And why should I give you answers?" Neya asked calmly, taking a sip from her goblet.

Moiraine eyed her warily. "I see that Matrim has warned you against me."

Neya snorted. "Warned me? Now that has to be the understatement of the year. And Rand _warned_ me as well," she told the other woman with a sneer. "If it's any consolation, I don't intend to answer anyone else's questions either. It's nothing personal," she went on with a shrug. "However, I am willing to answer one of your questions, if you'll answer one of mine."

Moiraine seemed to consider that for a moment. "What do you wish to know?"

"Who is he, the man who follows you around? The one I was training with earlier?" Neya asked promptly, leaning forward.

The Aes Sedai briefly arched an eyebrow in surprise; it was obviously not the question she had expected. "His name is Lan. He is my Warder," she answered carefully.

Neya waited for more, but nothing came. _Bloody Aes Sedai_ , Mat had said earlier, more than once. "I see. What do you want to know?" she asked, spreading her hands.

"Is your name different from Matrim's because his parents adopted you?" she inquired calmly.

Neya nodded once, sharply. "Yes, it is." She certainly wasn't going to expand on the matter. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll be on my way," she said briskly, standing up. She winced again when her legs and back complained at the sudden movement.

As she opened the door, Moiraine called to her. "You must at least allow me to teach you to channel, child. You are in danger until you learn proper control."

Neya ignored her. She paused outside, looking toward Lan the Warder. He was sharpening his blade. "You're not half-bad with that thing," she told him with a small grin.

He didn't glance up as he answered. "And you're surprisingly good," was all he said.

"Why did you say that, earlier? True blood of Manetheren?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment, finally meeting her eyes. "You speak the Old Tongue?" he asked her in return.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You two were clearly made for each other," she said, making a small gesture toward Moiraine's room. "I hope we can practice again one of these days, _Gaidin_ ," she added before walking away.


	17. Not all men are annoying - some are dead

She went back to her room – Rand's room – to find the Dragon Reborn and Natael focusing on nothing she could see. It had to be weaves of _saidin_ , the male half of the Source. She considered for a moment then decided to join them. She sat on a cushion next to her supposed lover. Natael scowled at her. "My Lord Dragon," he said crisply, "it would be better for us to continue this lesson another time."

Rand eyed Neya warily, but he simply shrugged. "Why? She can't see anything. If she wants to sit here and stare at invisible weaves, it's all the same to me. Show me again," he ordered the older man.

She watched them work, impressed at how relaxed Rand appeared around the former Forsaken. Natael, on the other hand, seemed agitated. She listened to them with only half an ear, mulling over everything that had happened today, particularly Mat's account of the past year. She also considered Moiraine's warning about channeling. The Aes Sedai was right, of course. Neya would need to learn to use the One Power properly, eventually. After everything Mat had told her about the other woman, however, she couldn't find it in her to trust her. She would ask Egwene tomorrow.

The men were done with their lesson. Rand was getting to his feet and Natael had already retreated to his cot, picking up his harp. Rand turned to Neya. "Are you alright? I didn't see you all day," he asked, looking concerned. "Did Lanfear come to you?"

She shook her head hastily. "No, I haven't seen her. I woke up late, spent the afternoon with Mat, sparred with Moiraine's Warder," she told him.

"You _sparred_ with Lan?" he repeated incredulously.

"Indeed. I picked up a few skills while I was away," she explained with a shrug.

"I see. I'm sorry, I have to meet with the clan chiefs. Are you staying here?" he asked, glancing in Natael's direction.

"Yes. Jay and I have some bonding to do," she said. Rand frowned slightly at 'Jay' but didn't reply. He left the room a moment later.

Neya walked up to the older man and sat beside him on the cot. He turned to her, scowling darkly. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

She smiled innocently. "I just want to listen to you play the harp, that's all. Elan always said you were the best harpist of your Age," she told him truthfully. Elan had also said that the man had been vain and arrogant – like most of the Forsaken. In any case, a little flattery never hurt.

Natael's frown faded somewhat. He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But don't talk, or move," he commanded. "Try not to breathe too loudly," he added nastily.

Then he began to play. The man might be a nuisance, but he did play beautifully. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes to enjoy the music. She wasn't familiar with the tune.

He let the last note dissolve into the air and a hush engulfed the room. They didn't talk for a long time. Eventually he cleared his throat. "Are you going to stay there all night?" he asked dryly.

"I would sooner eat my own liver," she replied with a bright smile, standing up. "Good night, dumpling."

"Don't call me that, woman," he growled at her. "As if the situation wasn't bad enough, now I have to endure you as well," he muttered sourly.

She didn't bother to answer this time. They would have to be more civil to each other, otherwise this masquerade would break the moment they were seen in public.

* * *

The next morning she set to find Egwene. She found her friend filling jugs of water near the Wise One's tent. "Good morning," she called out cheerfully. "Need some help with that?"

Egwene started, nearly dropping her jug, and glared at her in reproach. "Oh, so now you're talking to me?" she said bitterly.

"Eggs, I'm sorry. It's been a long… week," she finished lamely. "Can we talk? We have so much to catch up on."

The other girl straightened up, carefully placing the jug down. "Let me just take care of this first."

After she had disposed of the jugs, they decided to sit in the same spot where she had talked with Mat the day before. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. It's all a lot to take in," Neya said softly. "I never imagined I'd find you three here. And everything that's happened…" She trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I'm more curious as to what happened to _you_ ," Egwene told her. "Rand and Mat haven't told me anything, and it seems Moiraine didn't get much out of you. Where have you been? Why did you disappear like that? You didn't run away, did you? Do you have any idea what it's been like for Natti and Abell, and the girls?" she went on in a low voice. "Light, even Mat looked depressed."

Neya's heart broke at the mention of her family. As if she would ever abandon them without a word, after everything they had done for her. But that was what they had convened with Rand and Natael. She had left home to find adventure and gotten tangled with the gleeman some time afterward. Sighing inwardly, she didn't have to feint the blush of shame creeping in her cheeks. "I was bored," she started to say. She went on quickly when she saw Egwene's expression of outrage. "I thought I would be back in a month or two. I hadn't planned on being away for so long. I just got carried away, I guess," she spread her hands guiltily. "I don't need a lecture, Eggs. I know I screwed up. Please don't be angry. I need your help. Please," she whispered fervently, meeting her friend's large brown eyes.

She heard Egwene swallow audibly, as if she were holding back tears. Her voice was a bit unsteady. "Neya, we all thought you were dead. You do realise that, don't you?" she asked, clearly not expecting an answer. Neya nodded miserably; she could feel her own tears threaten to spill. Egwene sighed. "It's not my place to lecture you," she went on more firmly. "I'm just glad you're alright," she finished with a tremulous smile. Suddenly they were both crying in each other's arms.

They pulled away eventually, sniffling, looking slightly embarrassed. Neya gave her friend a small smile. "How about we changed the subject?"

Egwene nodded eagerly. "Can we talk about the fact that you can channel? You _are_ aware that you can channel, aren't you?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Yes, of course. And as a matter of fact, I was hoping we would talk about that," Neya told her truthfully. "You can channel too, can't you?" she added after a brief pause.

Egwene nodded. "Moiraine began to teach me soon after we left the Two Rivers. Now the Wise Ones have taken me on as their apprentice," she said brightly. "I've learned a lot with them already, although their methods are rather… unusual. Has anyone taught you anything?"

Neya shook her head ruefully. "I've only channeled twice so far, without really knowing what I was doing. I Healed someone," she added.

"Healing? But that's one of the most difficult ability to master! How could you have done it without knowing what you were doing? Did they survive?" Egwene added dubiously.

Neya gave her a tight smile. "It was the same person both times, actually. And yes, he did survive." _And then he got himself killed_ _anyway_ , she thought bitterly. "I don't even know how to embrace the Source, to tell you the truth," she admitted.

"You of all people should know that channeling isn't safe without proper training, even for a woman, especially considering how strong you are," Egwene told her. That was the second time someone had mentioned how strong she was. How could they know that? "You should ask Moiraine for advice, at least. I know the boys warned you about her, but she's not a bad person, Neya. She can help you. I don't trust myself to teach you on my own," she said simply.

"I'll think about it. Egwene, what happened to you, exactly? Mat was rather vague about everyone else and he said he couldn't remember most of what happened after picking up that cursed dagger in Aridhol. He told me about Falme, told me you were there, but why were you there when you were supposed to be training at the White Tower?" she asked.

Egwene's face had gone pale. She recounted the events of the past year from her point of view, speaking softly, but looking fierce whenever she mentioned the Seanchan. _All in all, I really don't have much cause to complain_ , Neya found herself thinking.


	18. I hope some day you'll join us

She had to learn to channel, that much was certain. She couldn't risk hurting other people because of her ignorance. It grated on her that she would have to ask Moiraine after all. She had considered going to the Wise Ones but changed her mind when she saw what they had Egwene doing. Never in a million years could she manage to scrape like that unless her life was in imminent danger, not after what had happened with Lanfear. She wished Rand could have taught her instead, but if a man had been able to teach her, Elan would have done it a long time ago. No, it had to be Moiraine.

She reached the Aes Sedai's room just before noon. The older woman was talking to her Warder in hushed tones inside the room. They both hushed when they saw her approach. "Moiraine Sedai, may I have a word?" she asked the diminutive woman as demurely as she could.

Moiraine studied her for a moment before nodding. "Come in, please," she said coolly.

Neya stepped inside, silently blessing the cool interior. She had trouble adjusting to the intense heat of the days. "I apologise if I was rude the other day," she began without preamble. "Can you teach me how to embrace the Source and channel?" she went on evenly.

The corner of Moiraine's mouth twitched slightly. "You _do_ need guidance and discipline. I'd be glad to begin your training, but you must enrol in the White Tower as soon as we reach Tar Valon," she said firmly.

"I think I'll pass, but thank you for the offer," she told the Aes Sedai politely. This was not what she had come for. "I only need the rudiments, just enough to make sure I don't do anything stupid, so to speak," she went on.

Moiraine arched one eyebrow. "You are not aware of your own strength, are you, child?" Neya shook her head slowly. "Can you sense the ability to channel in myself?"

"I think so," Neya replied hesitantly. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Now you're glowing!"

Moiraine nodded. "I have embraced the Source. I am going to weave a simple thread of Air," she said.

Neya grinned at her enthusiastically. "I can see it! It's right there," she pointed in the direction of the thread of _saidar_.

"I assume that you have touched the Source before," Moiraine inquired.

Neya nodded gravely. "I have. Twice. But I don't know how I did it. My… friend… was seriously injured and I Healed him," she said carefully. "The first time… I don't remember it at all. I was scared and I panicked and all of a sudden I was filled with this odd sensation of joy and peace and everything made perfect sense," she explained haltingly. "I was unconscious for hours afterward, and I woke up with no memory of Healing him."

"And the second time?" Moiraine asked.

"It was pretty much the same thing. He was wounded and I Healed him again," she answered. "This time I was aware of everything I did. The weaves seemed to flow of their own accord, but I couldn't show you what I did even if I knew how to produce the weaves. And before you ask, yes, he survived, without any apparent ill effects," she added, thinking back on what Egwene had said earlier.

The Aes Sedai appeared to consider this. "What kind of injury did your… friend… suffer?" she asked eventually.

"Does it matter?" Neya countered defensively before cursing herself for a fool. She needed the woman's help. There was no sense in antagonising her. She took a deep, calming breath. "Sorry. He got burned the first time and suffered an injury to the chest a few months later. Certainly more than a scratch or a bruise," she said wryly.

"I see," Moiraine said noncommittally. "Let us start with the basics. You will try to embrace the Source," she went on. She explained how to do it and, when Neya couldn't work that one out, she described another way to achieve it. It failed again. Neya was becoming quite frustrated. It had been so easy before, when she didn't have to think about what she was doing. Finally, Moiraine told her to stop. "It appears that you have developed a block," she announced quietly. When Neya scowled, she clarified her meaning. "It is a coping mechanism unconsciously developed to avoid the reality of your ability to channel. It's not uncommon among wilders. Self-taught channelers, people who possess the ability inborn and have acquired some sort of control over the Power without formal training," she explained again when Neya opened her mouth.

"But what does it mean, concretely? How do I push past the block? _Can_ I push past it?" Neya asked, already dreading the answer.

Moiraine pursed her lips, reflecting on the matter. "Blocks can be removed, although like the block itself, the method to break it depends on the individual. In your case, it is assumed that you can only access the Source when someone has been grievously hurt, or maybe even when that particular person has been hurt. We must therefore find a way to bypass this necessary circumstance," she went on. "In the White Tower, the most common means is to beat the block out of the channeler," she stated conversationally. "Suffering a great shock or traumatic experience has also been known to break down a block. I'm afraid there is no easy way to find out."

Neya stared at her for a long time, pondering this. "So maybe asking the Wise Ones for training wasn't such a bad idea after all," she said with a faint grimace. "They'd probably be happy to beat it out of me. But I won't do that. I don't need to channel. When I do need to, it will mean someone has been injured, so the block won't matter anyway. So why bother?" she asked with a small shrug.

"It is dangerous, but you already know this, I suppose. The risk that you might burn yourself out when you _do_ embrace the Source will be greater, as you have not learned the proper discipline. Your best option would be to accompany me to the White Tower," she said again.

Neya was shaking her head. "I have no intention of becoming an Aes Sedai," was all she said.

"What else would you do? You are what you are, child, and sooner or later this simple fact will catch up to you," Moiraine told her.

"I can become whatever I want to be. I want to travel the world, be my own woman. I don't want a leash," she replied earnestly.

Someone called the Aes Sedai's name outside the room, probably Lan. Moiraine turned to Neya briefly, standing up. "We will talk again, soon. In the meantime, be careful," she cautioned as she left.

* * *

Neya returned to her room afterward, mulling over her conversation with Moiraine on the way back. She decided to ask Natael for advice. After all, despite the fact that he was behaving like a moody, spoiled brat, he was one of the most powerful channelers alive, with the knowledge of the Age of Legends.

As usual, the man was sprawled on his cot, plucking idly at the cords of his harp. He looked as melancholy as she'd ever seen him. "Natael?" she said softly. "Can we talk?" She sat next to him on the cot without waiting for an answer. Obviously annoyed at her interruption, he sighed heavily. He didn't bother to reply, however, and never took his dark, sulking eyes off his harp. "I have a block. I can't embrace the Source whenever I want to. What do you know of such things?" she questioned him.

He sighed again, to make sure she knew how much she was exasperating him. "Not much. Blocks – bars, as we used to call them – were an extremely rare occurrence in my days. There were no such things as wilders back then," he told her. "What kind of bar is it?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

"Moiraine says I can't touch the Source unless someone gets hurt. She also said it might be tied to a specific person, since I've Healed him twice in similar circumstances."

"Ishamael," Natael whispered. Neya nodded. The former Forsaken seemed to consider this. "What an odd relationship you two must have had," he went on in a low voice, speaking almost to himself. "Did he ever tell you why you were there in the first place? I know you held back a lot of information from Lanfear that day," he told her pointedly, meeting her eyes. "How you managed that is beyond me, but you obviously did."

"I don't know either," she said with a small shrug. "To answer your question, he told me once that fate had brought us together. That's all he ever said on the subject."

Natael surprised her by letting out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "That was always his favourite justification," he said with a sneer. "He did a great many things on a whim, Ishamael did. When we inquired about them, he would say it was meant to be, that it was _fated_ , or that it was the will of the Pattern," he said disdainfully. "I suspect he had no idea why he did anything, most of the time."

Neya smiled fondly. "I suspect you are right. But back to the matter at hand," she prompted him.

"I told you, girl, I don't know much about bars. I can't help you, even if I wanted to, and I'm not sure I do," he said before she could go on. Just like that, he was all gloomy again. Light, but the man could be irritating! His mood seemed to change every other minute. Was he mad, like Elan? And Lanfear, for that matter. Maybe spending millennia confined in Shayol Ghul had addled the Forsaken's brains.

It seems that she would have to deal with the block on her own. There was no way she would go to the Wise Ones for help. She would never let anyone hurt her again, not if she could prevent it. Natael had begun to play, a doleful lament she thought she had heard before. Elan hadn't known many joyful tunes. Light, how she missed him.


	19. The foulest stench is in the air

Over the next few days, she divided her time between sparring with Lan, catching up with Mat and learning the Aiel ways. The man who had first brought her to the Wise Ones, Azim, a Taardad Aiel of the _Far Aldazar Din_ warrior society and Bloody Water Sept, had taken her under his wing on her third day in Rhuidean, coaching her in Aiel etiquette and instructing her in their many customs. She knew the man was infatuated with her and she thought it best to make it clear from the start that the feeling wasn't reciprocated, but Azim had laughed it off, claiming that the chase was half the fun anyway. He proved to be extremely stubborn, but she couldn't give in, no matter how much she might want to. He was tall, of course, and rather handsome, with short dark red hair and a wonderful smile.

But she had to maintain appearances with Natael. And in any case, she couldn't bring herself to get too close to him. Lanfear had made no appearance since the day she had abandoned Neya in the Waste, but who knew when she would be back? She could turn up at any moment. Neya didn't want to put anyone in unnecessary danger; the Light knew that there was enough of that to go around without adding a Forsaken to the mix. The Waste was an incredibly dangerous place. She had lost count of the number of people who had been injured in her short time here. She had taken these opportunities to attempt to channel, but when the Wise Ones weren't flat refusing – that's to say when they weren't around – she still couldn't embrace the Source, no matter how hard she tried, not matter how dire the injury. It was all very frustrating.

She hadn't talked to Moiraine again, had in fact been avoiding the Aes Sedai. She didn't need another lecture about the necessity of her going to the White Tower. She hadn't seen much of Egwene either. The Wise Ones were keeping her busy, day and night it seemed. Rand spent most of his time discussing with the clan chiefs and practicing the sword and spear. She even sparred with him a couple of times. They rarely talked, however, and when they did, most of their conversations concerned whatever scraps of information Elan or Lanfear might have given her of the other Forsaken and their whereabouts.

Slowly but surely, she even managed to get a little closer to Natael. Rand had decided that they should share a room, just the two of them, to avoid any suspicion, although they didn't actually share a bed, of course. Rand said he trusted her to keep an eye on him.

The one-time Forsaken usually chatted with her in a relatively friendly way, at least until he grew bored and sulky again. They talked about the Age of Legends, about music. He was more open than Elan had been about the other Forsaken, often spilling poison on his former cronies with fierce bitterness. When they were seen together in public, he was surprisingly good at playing the charming lover. She had thought that alone would deter Azim in his endeavours to woe her, but the man only seemed more determined. He was disdainful of the gleeman and joked that she would become bored with him soon enough, when she realised she wanted a real man. _Men_ , she thought wonderingly. _L_ _ove them or hate them, you can never understand them._

The Aiel often demanded that the gleeman play for them in the evenings, after the heat of the day had subsided, and Natael sometimes consented to entertain them with a few songs, seemingly reluctant, although he always ended up playing late into the night, taking requests on occasions. Sometimes she sang with him. She had begun one night, thinking to annoy him, but he had actually spurred her on, and she'd spent the rest of the night receiving as many requests as the gleeman.

It was good to be around people again. She made a point of enjoying herself as much as possible. There was no telling what tomorrow would bring, especially with the kind of company she kept. If she'd learned anything in her few years of existence, it was that good things never lasted.

* * *

She woke up in the night, sweating. Something was wrong. She thought she heard a faint growl, but she couldn't make out its origin in the pitch darkness of the room. Natael was muttering in his sleep, on the other side of the room; she could hear him trashing in his blankets. The growl intensified for a moment, as if whatever was making the noise had moved closer to her. The room reeked of burned sulphur. The first thing that came to her mind was that it had to be some kind of Shadowspawn. But why wasn't it making a move? It seemed to simply stand there. Her practice sword lay just beside the bed, but how was she supposed to fight whatever it was if she could not see it? Should she scream, cry for help? Would Natael be able to get rid of it if he was awake? She dared not move. She simply lay there, barely able to breathe, waiting for whatever would come next.

Nothing happened. After a few minutes she felt the thing – things? – shift in the shadows and a moment later the growling faded away completely. The sharp, unpleasant smell remained, however. It was another few minutes before she could make herself move. Slowly, carefully, she made her way to Natael's cot, not daring to light a candle. It might attract unwanted attention to the fact that she was awake.

She crouched next to him. "Jay?" she whispered. "Wake up. Natael!" she said a little louder, placing her hand where she thought his shoulder should be. He woke up with a start. A ball of light abruptly appeared near his face and she blinked rapidly in the sudden glare.

"Darkness within! What are you doing?" he muttered irritatingly. "It's the middle of the night!"

"Thank you for pointing that out, I hadn't noticed," she told him wryly. "There was… something… in the room. It's gone now, I think," she went on, "but it could come back. Can't you smell it?"

She saw his nose twitch once and his eyes widened in horror. "Darkhounds," he murmured. His face had gone pale and she heard him swallow distinctly. They heard footsteps coming from outside. "Move," he commanded, pushing her out of his way as he got up. "Stay behind me," he ordered again. _How sweet_ , she thought amusedly.

Rand stepped into the room, bringing more light with him. He looked dishevelled, although his face remained impassive. "Oh, good. You're both alright," he said in a low voice. Suddenly his eyes focused on something on the floor. Paw prints. They seemed to be etched into the stone. She stared at them in wonder. "Darkhounds," Rand said matter-of-factly, confirming Natael's fear. "Did you destroy them?" he asked the gleeman.

The older man shook his head slowly. "I didn't even see them. She just awakened me," he explained, gesturing toward Neya. Rand turned to face her, eyeing her expectantly.

"I heard something growl but I couldn't make out anything. It left after a few minutes," she told him.

Rand studied her a moment longer then shrugged. "Well, they're gone now. I've handled the others. I'll deal with these too, if they come back." He focused on the prints once more and, a second later, they were gone. Without another word, he turned on his heels and departed.

In a daze, she stood staring at the now-smooth spots on the floor for a long time. "Are you alright?" Natael asked suddenly. She'd forgotten he was there. "You're trembling."

Neya blinked once, coming out of her trance. She cleared her throat roughly. "I'm fine. Just cold," she muttered. "I'll go back to bed now. Good night," she told him. She settled back on the bed. Natael was still standing in the middle of the room, lost in contemplation. "It would be easier to sleep without the light on," she said dryly. She realised she was being nasty, but the episode had shaken her more than she cared to admit. The man didn't say anything, simply turning around and walking back to his own cot. He extinguished the light a moment later, leaving them both to lie stiffly in the dark until dawn finally arrived.


	20. One does not simply walk into Sindhol

The next morning she learned from Azim that the Shaido had left a week ago and were on their way to the Jangai Pass. Rand promptly announced that they would follow and stop them. As preparations were made, Neya found herself wandering around in the bustle with nothing to do. She didn't have much to pack.

She wondered if the _ter'angreal_ Mat had told her about was still around somewhere. She had wanted to see it ever since Mat mentioned it, although he had explicitly told her to keep away from it when he saw her eyes brightening with interest. He had showed her the scar on his neck, and to most people that would have been enough reason not to inquire any further. But she was not most people.

The curiosity was too strong. She had to see it for herself. She found the peddlers' wagons some time later. Everyone seemed to be occupied and they paid her no attention. Strolling around, looking casual, she finally located the object of her search. It truly was an odd relic, ancient and distorted-looking. She scanned the inside of the doorway for any sign of theinhabitants of the realm that lay just a few paces away, but saw nothing. After making certain no one was looking in her direction, she stepped inside.

She now stood in a large, empty hall that seemed built entirely out of glass or something that looked similar. She took a good look around, searching for the Eelfinn or Aelfinn – any kind of Finn, really – but she was alone. Yet at the same time, she felt uncomfortably aware that she was being observed. The silence seemed to echo eerily in the vast hall. She was reluctant to leave the doorway to explore the place. She decided to draw them to her instead and cleared her throat a little apprehensively. "Hello?" she called out in the emptiness. She used the Old Tongue. Mat said they used it with him – although apparently he hadn't realised it at the time.

The rasping answer came from behind her. "You're not supposed to be here, human child."

She whirled, nearly falling over in her haste. It – he? – stood only a few paces away from her. She hadn't heard him approach. He looked exactly the way Mat had described them. An Eelfinn. He towered over her, a broad-shouldered man with a markedly narrower waist. His mane of red hair stood stiffly on his head and descended well below his shoulders. He frowned at her, looking contrite, but said nothing else.

She had to clear her throat once more. "Hello," she repeated. "Master Fox. Can I call you that, or do you have an actual name I can use?" She was rambling. Taking a deep breath, she went on in a more composed voice. "My name is Neya al'Kane. I abide by the treaties and agreements of old and carry no iron, light-making device or instrument of music. I have come to bargain." It seemed the best thing to say, according to what Mat told her of his own encounters. It wasn't that complicated, when you thought about it. She simply had to do the exact opposite of what her brother had done: be smart, ask for the price _before_ sealing the bargain and not get killed. What could possibly go wrong?

The Finn blinked at her once. "You're not supposed to be here," he repeated roughly.

She stared at him in confusion. "I thought you knew everything. Didn't you know I would be coming?"

"You're not–"

"–supposed to be here, yes, thank you, I heard you the first two times," she said irritably. "If you don't want me here, I won't take any more of your time. I'll just be on my way." Feeling disappointed, she turned back to the _ter'angreal_.

"No!" the Fox cried, suddenly looming in front of her, hands half-raised almost imploringly. "No, you must not leave. Come. I will take you where you may find what you need."

Abruptly, he leaned forward, sniffing at her. When he retreated a moment later, his odd pupils were dilated. He was grinning widely, showing teeth. Very sharp-looking teeth. "Is that some kind of greeting ritual? Am I supposed to sniff you too?" she asked him, giggling nervously.

He didn't reply. "Come," he said instead, softly, almost caressingly, eyes half-closed. He gestured with one hand and started forward.

They walked for a long time, although it was difficult to estimate exactly how long. They passed halls and empty rooms that all looked the same. She would never find her way back to the doorway without help.

She was too edgy to remain silent. She pestered him with questions the whole time they were walking. "Do you have a name or not?" she asked the Eelfinn. He said nothing, staring ahead intently. "How long has passed since I've been here? It's hard to tell, you know." He made no reply whatsoever. "How many of you are there? Do the Snakes live here too? The Aelfinn, I mean? Or is it another world altogether?" She went on and on, barely aware that Master Fox – he hadn't provided any other name, so she stuck to that, in her head at least – never answered her or even acknowledged her questions. At least it passed the time. She was becoming more restless by the minute. Or whatever passed for a minute in this Light-forsaken place.

Finally her guide stopped in front of another vast, apparently empty room. It looked pretty much the same as every other room they'd just walked by. He stretched a long, white hand toward the centre of the room. Neya approached it carefully, scanning the shadows for more Finns. She couldn't make out anyone – or anything – on the pedestals. She turned around to inspect the rest of the room, but there was nothing else to see. She whirled back once more and suddenly there were people filling the previously empty pedestals. More Foxes. Some were obviously females, others males. She took a deep breath, fixing one of the Eelfinn in the eyes. "My name is Neya al'Kane," she began.

"You're not supposed to be here," one of the females said with a low growl. The words were echoed by several of her associates.

Neya rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I've heard that one before," she said wryly. "If you tell me I've walked for hours in this bloody maze just to be sent back out again, it won't go well for you," she went on with a snarl.

They seemed to consider her words attentively, as if deciding whether she was bluffing or not. At last the first female met her eyes. "You may speak, human child. Tell us what you need."

"First of all, I'd like to discuss the matter of payment," she told them. "What is it you want from me in exchange for the fulfilment of my requests?"

They all seemed frozen in place. She caught several muttered words. _Pain_. _Fear_. _Power._ She was about to repeat herself to get a clear answer when one of the males spoke. "The price will depend on your demands, Lightbringer."

 _Lightbringer_ _?_ Neya scowled slightly. _What is_ that _supposed to mean?_ Shaking her head, she put the thought out of her mind. She had to stay focused. Her life literally depended on it. She told them what she wanted. It was the only real demand she would make. She had to retain the other two requests to get herself out of here in one piece.

"Done," came the answer from a dozen throats. They waited for her to continue.

"I need to be guided quickly back where I came from, to the _ter'angreal_ , alive and unharmed, as soon as you give me what I want and the price has been paid," she went on.

She sensed a little hesitation from the Eelfinn. Then, "Done."

"I need to know what the price for these demands is before I agree to pay it," she continued, "and before you do anything that might require a price," she finished smugly.

They remained silent for a long time, so long that she was starting to wonder if she'd missed something. They were likely just trying to find a loophole, but the wait seemed interminable. She realised that she was holding her breath and let it out as softly as she could.

"Done," they muttered eventually, all at once. They were silent for a long moment. "For these demands, the price is your innocence, human child."

Neya burst out laughing. "My _innocence_?" She almost choked on the words. "I'm afraid you're too late for that," she told them wryly. "You really don't know anything about me, do you?" she asked in a puzzled voice. The way Mat explained it, they had seemed to know everything about him, even his future. Or maybe that had been the Snakes? She couldn't remember.

They stared at her blankly. "The price has been set. Do we have a bargain, Lightbringer?" one of the males whispered roughly.

She didn't understand. Could they simply _harvest_ her innocence, somehow – or whatever was left of it? They said they wanted pain and fear and… power? Was this going to hurt her? It seemed improbable. Well, it didn't matter. If she could get away with what she wanted in exchange for something she'd lost a long time ago, she was not about to refuse. She nodded slowly. "Yes, we have a bargain."

The Fox was on her before the last word was completely out of her mouth.


	21. Life's greatest illusion

She looked around the room, feeling dazed. The Fox who had guided her from the doorway was sprawled on the floor, looking utterly overwhelmed with ecstasy, eyes staring blindly at nothing, mouth hanging open. The others were all moaning and grunting. Some were lying on the floor and she saw a few of them copulating frantically. _Charming_ , she thought bitterly. She turned back to her aggressor. "You're supposed to guide me out of here, now," she told him – _it_ , she amended fiercely. How could she have ever thought them to be even remotely human?

The Finn didn't respond, didn't move. She crouched near it, snapping her fingers in front of its eyes. No reaction. "Burn you, you son of a bloody goat!" she shouted at it. "The bargain was sealed with the price agreed upon. Now get me out of here!" Abandoning all pretence at civility, she punched it straight in its foxy nose. There was a loud cracking noise. It blinked once, obviously struggling to focus on her. "Get… me… out of here!" she hissed at it once more. When it didn't comply, she pulled her fist back for another punch.

Suddenly it was moving, fumbling to stand. It stumbled, looking intoxicated. Without a word he clasped her arm and dragged her out of the room. They left the others to their maniacal mating, their grunts and growls soon receding. They walked in silence this time.

* * *

They reached the doorway after a while. She wasn't sure if it had taken quite so long as the inward journey. The bloody Fox simply stood next to the _ter'angreal_ , waiting for her to depart. It was staring at her. Shame and humiliation filled her to brimming.

The Eelfinn had slammed into her, bringing both of them down on the floor and tearing her clothes apart greedily. At least it hadn't lasted long, although she would have been hard pressed to say exactly how long. And there had been pain, alright, more than she thought she'd bargained for. To be fair, she hadn't been sure what to expect at all, but it certainly wasn't that.

Afterward, the Fox had fallen over her like a dead weight and she'd had to push it off before it crushed her. It had been panting hard, letting out small moans of pleasure that sounded almost like yowls of pain.

Now her clothes were ripped to shreds, barely clinging to her. She had bled, and not a little. Blood marred the legs of what was left of her breeches and had pooled in her boots. She felt numb. She couldn't decide whether it was worth it, especially since she didn't know if what she'd asked for had been granted.

The Fox was staring at her hungrily. Its lips were parted and its eyes shone brightly in the dimness of the room. It was sniffing the air and appeared to be wondering if it could get away with another round. "That would be against the bargain, you flaming goat-spawned toad. No harm after the price has been paid, we agreed on that," she told it fiercely. It blinked in surprise but didn't speak. Wondering how she was going to get away with this – Light, Mat would kill her if he found out – she stepped back into the real world.

* * *

She emerged inside one of the wagons. There was a piece of canvas around the doorway. Had they left Rhuidean already? Light, how long had she been in there? Shaking her head at the futility of her questions, she eyed the remains of her clothes. She looked as though she had been lost in the woods for days, attacked by a rabid wolf and then caught unexpectedly by her monthly bleeding. In short, she was a mess. There was no way she could get out of here and make her way back to her room undetected. And that was even assuming that they were still in the Aiel city.

There was nothing for it. She couldn't simply hide in the wagon until it reached Tar Valon. Steeling herself, she lifted a piece of canvas to peek outside. It was night. Could she really have been in there all day? She saw no one, but that didn't mean no one was there. Aiel were extremely good at fading in the background.

Numbness was progressively retreating and being replaced by pain. Gritting her teeth, she stepped out of the wagon gingerly and took a good look around. They were not in Rhuidean anymore, that much was certain, although they were still clearly in the Waste. A sudden movement on her right caught her attention. The man-high shadow slowly resolved into Mat. A scowling, furious-looking Mat.

"I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed. "I bloody well knew it!" he shouted again. "What were you thinking? I told you they were dangerous! Look at you!" he said, then blinked, as if he was only just now seeing her properly. His eyes widened at the sight of her. "Blood and ashes," he whispered. "What did they do to you?" he asked her, concern plain on his face.

"Nothing," she told him, then bit her lip in exasperation. "I'm fine," she amended quickly, before he had time to speak. "It's just a little blood. I need to clean myself up a bit, is all," she told him as nonchalantly as she could.

He glared at her, obviously not satisfied with her answer. "Do you know how long you've been in there?" he demanded, voice tight with anger. "Ten days!" he said before she could open her mouth. "Ten _bloody_ days! Curse me for a fool, I should never have told you about the flaming thing," he went on. "You could have died, Neya." He met her eyes. He looked more serious than she'd ever seen him.

She realised she was crying. Hot tears were rolling down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, trying to hold them inside. _Curse_ me _for a fool_ , she thought bitterly. "Mat, I need to wash. Please," she whispered. She opened her eyes, looking at him pleadingly.

His face softened. He cleared his throat roughly, looking away. "Come on. I'll take you to your tent. Well, to mine. It seems Natael quickly found a replacement for you," he said with a grimace. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but at the moment, that was the last thing on her mind.

They walked in silence. They passed several Aiel, thankfully none she recognised. They all gave her curious glances. Mat stopped in front of a tent, drawing back the canvas for her. He told her to wash up, that he would be back soon with some clean clothes.

* * *

It took her a long time to clear all the blood from her skin and she still felt dirty even after she was done. She longed for a good soak in steaming water, although she was starting to think nothing would ever make her feel clean again. Mat came back half an hour later with fresh clothes, borrowed from Egwene.

The girl herself was trailing him, looking concerned. She sat down next to her in the tent. "Are you alright?" It was clear from her tone that she knew she wasn't. "Mat," she said without looking at him, "give us a moment, would you?" She heard him huff in exasperation but he left them without a word. "What happened? Mat wouldn't say."

"I'm sorry, Eggs. I can't tell you," she replied, feeling her cheeks burn with shame. If she had her way, no one would ever know what had transpired in the Eelfinn's lair. "What's going on here?" she asked quickly, desperate to change the subject.

Egwene eyed her sadly. "I remember a time when we told each other everything," she murmured ruefully. "We left Rhuidean ten days ago – after searching the whole city for an hour to find you. Rand was furious. Nothing happened, really. We haven't caught up to the Shaido yet," she told Neya.

"Where's Natael? Mat said he–"

"That _lecher_!" Egwene cursed, outrage marring her face. Neya flinched at the vehemence in her voice. "You were gone two days – _two days!_ – and already that _hussy_ was sharing his tent!" she went on fiercely.

"Hussy? What hussy?" Neya asked in a puzzled voice. She had no idea who that could be. No one had appeared to express any particular interest in Natael before.

"Isendre," Egwene replied scornfully, putting enough venom in the name to fill a dozen _gara_.

Neya's eyebrows climbed up in unfeigned surprise. "Oh, _that_ hussy," she said with a weak chuckle. She felt… well, not jealous, exactly; after all, the man was _not_ her lover. Disappointed, perhaps. She couldn't imagine a worst replacement. Sorilea would have made a better one.

They spent some time deprecating Natael and his new conquest, until Mat finally announced that he would like to get some sleep, if they wouldn't mind too bloody much. Apparently, he had been keeping watch near the wagon for the last ten days. He told her she could sleep here if she wanted. She bid Egwene good night, thanking her for staying around, then she crashed on some cushions and fell blissfully asleep.


	22. This chaos, it defies imagination

She woke the next morning feeling as if she'd emptied an entire jug of wine the previous night. Everything hurt. She winced in remembrance. It seemed even worse in hindsight. How could she be so stupid? She sat up with a groan. Mat was gone from the tent but she could hear bustle outside. She drank some water from a nearby pitcher and stood up reluctantly, grimacing in pain.

Everybody was preparing for departure. She spotted Mat not far ahead. He was apparently arguing with Melindhra. The blond woman saw her and gave her a nasty look before stalking away. Mat called after her but she didn't turn back. Neya joined him. "I hope that wasn't about me," she said.

Mat shook his head and she heard him mutter a few curses under his breath. "Don't mind her. We need to get ready. We're running late already. I didn't want to wake you," he told her. "You snored," he added with a grin. Count on Mat to bring that up now. At least he wasn't mad at her anymore.

They packed up the tent quickly and were soon joined by Azim. The Aiel eyed her up and down, as if to make sure she was in one piece. He seemed relieved to see her. He made some jokes about her sudden disappearance then subtly mentioned that his tent could hold two people, if she needed a place to sleep. She smiled at him, grateful for his easy manner and genuine concern. Mat scowled at him the whole time, of course.

* * *

She was back! He was overjoyed, he didn't mind admitting, if only to himself. It would be improper to appear that way where everyone could see, but feigning only a casual interest had been difficult. He had to talk to her, and soon. He _had_ to. These last few days, when he thought she was gone for good, had been the worst as far as he could remember. He had no idea where she'd gone or why, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. She was there, and Leafblighter take him if he would let her out of his sight again.

That night he made his way to Matrim Cauthon's tent, where Neya al'Kane had apparently settled for the time being. The two of them were playing a game of dice with some _Sha'mad Conde_ at a nearby fire. Of course, Melindhra was there as well. The way she clung to Neya al'Kane's brother was disturbing to say the least. He had never seen one of _Far Dareis Mai_ act like that.

"May I join you?" he asked around as he neared the fire.

The other Aiel nodded unconcernedly, but Matrim Cauthon got up. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night," he said with an obviously fake yawn. Melindhra almost jumped on her feet after him. One of the other players hid a smirk behind his hand. "What about you?" he asked his sister. Melindhra sighed in annoyance.

"I'll stay a while longer. Don't wait up on me," she told him wryly.

Azim took up the place her brother had just vacated. "I'm not sure why you keep playing this game, Neya al'Kane. You always end up losing." She did, even when her brother was not around.

She shrugged lightly. "Well, you always end up giving me back whatever I lost, so it doesn't really matter," she replied with a grin. Of course he gave it all back. She would be left with nothing but her skin if he didn't. It was a good thing that he didn't blush easily, because simply thinking of her that way made his blood boil. He found it difficult to control his thoughts when she was around. She turned his mind upside down without even trying.

They played for another hour, until the _Sha'mad Conde_ decided to call it a night. Neya al'Kane lost everything she wagered, as usual, but thankfully Azim won most of it back from the others. After they departed, she tried to tell him to keep his winnings to himself, as she always did, but he insisted on giving it all back. "You can sleep in my tent, if you want," he offered once more when he had successfully returned every item to her care. "It sounded like Melindhra and your brother would be occupied for a while. I can share a tent with one of my own brothers."

She looked up at him with that irresistible smile of hers. "Alright, you win. Show me where it is."

When they reached it, he lifted the tent flap open for her and followed her inside. "I must take some things with me. I will not be long," he told her. If he was going to talk to her, seriously for once, now was the time. He turned to face her. She was already sitting on the pallet, so he crouched in front of her. "Neya al'Kane," he said gravely, "it seems that your relationship with Jasin Natael is over."

"Oh, what makes you think that?" she asked him wryly.

"In light of that, will you perhaps reconsider my previous offer?" he went on hopefully. He should be more subtle, but he wasn't sure what else to say. How did one go about these things?

She had always countered his past attempts with good humour, but she wasn't smiling now. Had he been too forward? Had he angered her? She wasn't as easy to read as he used to think.

Just when he thought she wasn't going to answer at all, she moved closer to him and kissed him, so fiercely that they both ended up sprawled on the ground. It wasn't long before all lucid thinking deserted him.

* * *

She didn't see Natael at all during the next few days. She thought she glimpsed him once or twice, his fancy, silver-embroidered clothes and gleeman cloak standing out among the Aiel _cadin'sor_. She found she didn't have to pretend to be resentful at having been 'replaced' so quickly, by Isendre of all people.

Rand came to her on the morning after she returned, asking if Lanfear had anything to do with her disappearance. She told him where she'd gone and he gave her a puzzled look. He was the one who had detached Mat from _Avendesora_ ; he wouldn't expect anyone to go through the archway willingly. Thankfully, he didn't inquire as to what had happened inside the _ter'angreal_ and simply left it at that. He made no mention of Natael and Isendre, so Neya assumed he either didn't know or didn't care.

They arrived near Taien on the third day after her return. The town had been devastated by the Shaido. Bloated bodies hung from the outer walls, where vultures made a feast of the dead's remains. Neya looked at them with a pang of sorrow, but there was nothing she could have done, even if she had been able to embrace the Source.

That night, as she lay asleep besides Azim in their tent – she hadn't given much thought to the new turn their relationship had taken; it had seemed perfectly natural at the time – she heard a blackbird call out in the night. That was strange. She hadn't picked up any familiar birdcalls since Lanfear dropped her in the Waste.

Suddenly, there was a vast commotion outside and she was on her feet before she knew it, grabbing one of Azim's spears. Azim was already up and armed.

Chaos had broken loose in the night. There were fires in several places. She saw Aiel fighting other Aiel as well as men and women dressed like westerners. She also spotted several… creatures… nearby. Were those Trollocs? Two of the beasts caught sight of them and charged, their distorted animal heads looking fierce in the faint glow of the fires. She stepped aside lightly at the last moment, bringing the spear backward in one smooth motion to skewer the one closest to her as Azim did for the other one. She called out to him that she had to make sure her brother was alright and fought several more Trollocs on her way to Mat's tent. Azim remained behind to assist some members of his sept who seemed to be taking on another Shadowspawn. He didn't once try to stop her or question her ability to survive amidst the confusion and she was grateful for that.

She and Mat met halfway; obviously he'd had the same idea. They fought back to back until the flow of enemies finally dwindled. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, Aiel and Trollocs and Darkfriends all heaped together. _What a mess_ , she thought dazedly. _W_ _hat a waste_.

Mat was panting hard, his face covered with sweat and blood – not his, thankfully. She likely looked just as bad. "We should make sure Egwene and Rand are safe," she told her brother when she'd gotten her breath back. He nodded warily, cursing under his breath. She suspected he would have cursed out loud, if he'd had any breath to spare.

They found Egwene near Rand's tent, looking more angry than scared. The Aiel woman who always followed Rand around, Aviendha, was also there. Apparently, Rand had done something stupid. Which was hardly surprising, Egwene added viciously. In any case, they seemed to be unhurt, so Mat and Neya took their leave. She wanted to check on Natael but knew that Rand would have made sure the man was safe. Mat grumbled that he had to go back to Melindhra and Neya nodded absent-mindedly. She should find Azim, although she wasn't particularly worried about him. He was Aiel, after all, and she'd seen him fight against Lan on several occasions. They were evenly matched.

She wandered around for a long time before she finally found him. He lay half-buried under a dead Trolloc, his once-vibrant blue eyes already glazed over. She checked his pulse, knowing it was useless. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. She sat down on the ground next to him, staring at nothing.

Lan crouched next to her some time later and asked her if she was hurt, but she barely heard him. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her back to Azim's tent. _Our tent_ , she thought numbly. He laid her on the pallet and she drifted off to sleep.

She slept fitfully, waking several times during the night. The Trollocs kept swarming over Azim and, every time, she was too late to save him. His blue eyes glared at her reproachfully. The Trollocs all looked like oversized, distorted foxes.

* * *

Despite the events of the previous night, they made good time the following day. When Rand finally allowed them to stop for the night, she did a quick wash-up before stepping out once more. She met Isendre on the way and the tall, gorgeous woman gave her a condescending sneer. Neya shot her back her most winning smile and was gratified to see the stupefaction on her face.

She found Lan taking care of his warhorse not far from Moiraine's tent. The huge animal – Mandarb, she thought it was called – nickered casually as she reached them, causing the Warder to whirl around, hand on the hilt of his sword. She grinned at him. Visibly, he hadn't heard her approach. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Thank you for carrying me back to my tent yesterday," she told him softly.

"You would have frozen out there," he replied matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry about your friend," he went on. "He was a good man." He seemed to be done with the horse. "If you've come to practice–"

"No, not at all," she interrupted him quickly. "I think I've had quite enough of that, thank you," she went on with a grimace. "Can we just… talk?" she asked him a little timidly, indicating the small fire he'd laid out. He gave her the tiniest frown but said nothing, simply sitting down and gesturing for her to do the same. He waited for her to speak.

She realised he wasn't the best person with whom to have a conversation, but he was all she had at the moment. She simply couldn't face to spend the rest of the evening on her own, alone in Azim's tent. Melindhra had dragged Mat back to her tent as soon as he'd finished eating and Egwene was serving the Wise Ones. Rand… She didn't even know where he was. She didn't really want to talk to him, in any case. Natael was out of the question, of course. At least Lan appeared to listen when she talked.

"I don't want to talk about anything in particular," she said. "I just need some distraction." He nodded. She could talk if she wanted, but the man certainly wasn't going to start the conversation. She cast about for a likely topic. "Why do the Aiel call you _Aan'allein_?" She knew it translated literally as 'One Man', but what did it mean about the Warder? "I could have asked them, I suppose, but I find it improper to question other people about someone else's life. At least you're free to decide whether to tell me or not," she explained.

Contemplating the fire, he didn't answer right away. "What do you know of Malkier?" he asked her eventually.

She'd read about Malkier and how it had been swallowed by the Blight. It had been a fairly recent book, perhaps the latest addition to Elan's library, and it also recounted the Aiel War. "About everything a southerner might know." His eyes widened in surprise. She gave him a sheepish smile. "I read about it somewhere. You're al'Lan Mandragoran," she whispered. The last survivor of Malkier's royal line. If his land still existed, he would be king. He nodded once, slowly, obviously startled that she'd figured it out so quickly. She cleared her throat. This wasn't a good subject of conversation.

"What about you?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up at him, frowning. "Me?" she repeated. "What about me?"

"You know my story. What's yours?" He was a man of few words.

"There's not much to tell," she said after a brief hesitation. "I come from _ta'veren_ land, a place formerly known as the Two Rivers," she began with a small grin, "and I'm Mat's sister. Adopted sister," she amended reluctantly. Mat may not be her blood kin, but for all intents and purposes, he _was_ her brother. "I'm just a regular country girl, really. Not much to tell," she said again. She couldn't tell him more than that. Rand had said to be wary of Moiraine, and Lan would certainly report anything Neya told him.

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Who taught you the sword?" he asked eventually.

"Jay," she muttered, thinking fast. She couldn't very well tell the Warder that Ishamael himself had been her mentor, could she?

"The gleeman?" he repeated with a slight frown. "I had no idea he was a swordsman."

"Well, you wouldn't know. He doesn't practice very often." Truth be told, she had no inkling whether or not the former Forsaken could wield a blade.

Moiraine appeared at that moment, as cool as ever. "A word, _Gaidin_?" she asked Lan, indicating her tent. The Warder was already on his feet.

Neya got up as well. "I'll leave you to it. Thank you, _Dai Shan_ ," she said once more, bowing her head to Lan. That was a Malkieri title. It meant 'battle lord'. She ignored the Aes Sedai entirely – she didn't need another lecture about the necessity of her training in the White Tower – and departed. It seemed she would have to keep herself company after all.


	23. Women are not meant to be understood

Four days after the attack, they finally emerged on the other side of the Jangai Pass, where the Shaido had laid waste on a town called Selean. Two days later, Isendre was reported missing by some angry Maidens of the Spear. Neya thought she ought to be happy about that, but couldn't summon enough energy to gloat. Besides, she was fairly certain the woman must have suffered a terrible fate. Lanfear had told her she was a Darkfriend, just like the peddler, Harnan Kadere.

That night Natael came to her tent. He didn't ask for her permission to enter; he simply stepped in and sprawled down on her pallet. She stared at him from the other end of the tent, where she sat on a fluffy cushion, the book she was reading entirely forgotten in her hands. What was the man thinking? That he could just pick up where he left off, as if nothing had happened? She was momentarily stunned speechless. He didn't say anything, just produced his harp and started to play a mournful tune, looking his usual gloomy self.

Abruptly she stood up, closed the short distance between them, and slapped him, so hard that her hand stung. He looked up at her in shock. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted. "You think you can tumble that strumpet and just waltz back in as if nothing had happened the moment she's gone? Who do you take me for?" she spat at him. "You bloody son of a flaming goat!" She slapped him again, for good measure. "Get the hell out of here," she said, pointing at the tent flap. He swallowed, putting a hand on his cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. "Don't bother," she warned him in a dangerous voice. He got up, stepping around her carefully before exiting.

* * *

The next day several Maidens nodded approvingly to her in passing, some of them grinning. It seemed that she had yelled louder than she meant to. Come to think of it, she hadn't meant to shout at all. She had been baffled by the man's sudden reappearance in her life and outraged at his lack of manners, but surely none of it had earned him those slaps. If he wanted to sleep with other women, that was his business. She simply wished he had been more discreet.

He came back later that night, this time calling out from outside and even waiting for her assent before entering. She almost refused, partly because she didn't know how she felt at the moment, and because she was a little embarrassed by her outburst of the previous night.

Natael stepped inside and eyed her warily before sitting down on the pallet. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry." The words seemed to be ripped out of him, but he sounded sincere. "I'm not entirely certain why you're mad at me, but whatever it is, I'm sorry. I don't suppose it was all just an act, by any chance? To keep up appearances?" he asked dubiously. She shook her head mutely. "I see. Perhaps you were simply trying to get back at me for making you look bad?" She shook her head once more. He went on in a slightly irritated tone. "Then why? We are _not_ lovers. You know that, yes?"

"I don't know why," she replied truthfully. "There's been a lot going on lately. Selean, Taien, the Shadowspawn attack…" Her voice cracked a little at that. She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not angry at you in particular, I'm angry at everything and everyone. So much pain, so much pointless violence. As if the prospect of _Tarmon Gai'don_ was not enough," she murmured.

"I see. You're mad at the world and decided to slap me to make yourself feel better about the unfairness of it all. Is that correct?"

"Pretty much," she answered with a small grin.

He chuckled darkly. "My cheek stung for the rest of the night, you know," he told her accusingly.

"You have such a delicate disposition," she told him teasingly.

They were silent for a moment. "May I?" he asked eventually, unstrapping his harp.

She nodded, settling back on the cushions. "Can you play _Odyssey of the Fireflies_?" His eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing, instead launching into the first accords of the requested tune.

* * *

She fell asleep at some point, and woke up to find Natael still sprawled on the cot, snoring softly. She put a hand on his shoulder to wake him and, together, they packed up her tent in silence. Everyone eyed them askew when they stepped out and some passing Maidens shook their heads in disbelief. She didn't pay them any attention. Mat scowled darkly at the gleeman as he joined her for breakfast and she gave him a shrug and a grin, which seemed to suffice. Her brother never held a grudge for very long.

Egwene gave her such a disapproving look when Natael suddenly reappeared by her side that she didn't have the heart to talk to her. In any case, she seemed as busy as ever with her tasks as apprentice.

Natael took to riding next to her so they could talk, and talk they did. He was much more amiable now than when they were in Rhuidean. They spent most of that first day speculating on what had befallen Isendre and eventually agreed that she must have been killed. It seemed improbable that the woman could have escaped the Maidens long enough to run away to safety. Lanfear or another Forsaken likely had a hand in this.

Her curiosity got the better of her. "Why her?" she asked him. "I mean, obviously she was beautiful and all that, but still," she went on derisively. "Even you could do better than that."

He didn't say anything for a moment. She was beginning to think she'd vexed him when he finally spoke. "I thought Lanfear had taken you," he muttered. "Al'Thor seemed to agree that it was the most plausible option," he went on softly. "As far as we knew, you were dead." She glanced in his direction, but he kept his eyes fixedly on the road ahead. "Isendre showed up in my tent on the second day after we left Rhuidean. She took her clothes off and sat astride me. What was I supposed to do?" he asked her fiercely, finally facing her. "How far was I supposed to go to keep up appearances? Should I have observed a proper period of mourning?" he said sharply, scowling at her.

This was not going as she expected. She hadn't meant to accuse him of anything, which she hastened to clarify. "There's no need to be so defensive. I don't care with whom you decide to share your blankets, you know. I was just curious. She seemed so… dull," she finished lamely. That was not the word she had intended to use.

He was silent for a long time. She didn't know what to say to appease him. Why did he become so vehement, all of a sudden? She thought she'd made it clear that it didn't matter what happened. "Why _did_ you disappear like that, anyway?" he finally asked, glowering at her. "Al'Thor said you weren't with Lanfear, but he didn't tell me where you'd gone."

This was even worse. "Does it matter?" she asked casually. "Look, we both made mistakes. Let's just keep it at that, shall we?" she offered hesitantly.

He didn't reply right away, his face suddenly impassive. "Or better yet, let's not mention any of this ever again," he muttered. She nodded hastily and he slowly regained his composure after that.

They talked about Sammael, arguing as to whether or not he had been the one to commandeer the attack near Taien. She made fun of him for being Rand's standard-bearer and for riding an ass, and he surprised her by sticking his tongue at her, making her giggle involuntarily. He wasn't so bad, for one of the Forsaken. No more than Elan had been, once she got to know him better. Of course, they had both done unspeakable things. When the Last Battle was over, he would likely hang for the unforgivable crimes he'd committed during the War of Power, no matter what help he provided Rand. She was beginning to understand what Elan had tried to explain to her, in that pedantic tone of his. No one was all Light or Shadow, but rather an amalgam of both. In the end, all that truly mattered was the part people chose to act on.

* * *

Soon they reached the outskirts of Cairhien and prepared to battle the encamped Shaido. Egwene and Aviendha, the other apprentice, agreed to fight alongside Rand using the One Power. Moiraine and the Wise Ones would remain behind and provide what Healing they could. Neya offered to help, even if she couldn't channel, and both she and Natael ended up being recruited to assist the Healers. Neya was still secretly hoping that seeing someone injured would trigger her ability to embrace the Source.

The battle began, and they spent the day running from one Wise One to the next, carrying water or bandages and following Moiraine's sharp instructions. When the fighting finally died down, with the Shaido defeated, they were both exhausted. Nothing had prompted her block to dissolve, not even when people she knew were brought in, some of them on the brink of death. Moiraine had been able to save countless lives, and that made Neya feel all the more frustrated. Later that day, when darkness fell, they learned that Mat himself killed Couladin, the leader of the Shaido, although her brother didn't seem particularly happy about it.

They entered Cairhien the next day, raising Rand's banners all over the city. Neya and Natael were given a room in the Sun Palace itself, which was vast and richly decorated. Rand seemed to be paying less and less attention to the former Forsaken, apparently trusting him not to do anything stupid, or perhaps trusting Neya to make certain he didn't. They spent the next few days enjoying the comforts of a palace room, and she took her first bath in well over a year, soaking gratefully in the warm water until her fingers were creased. In hindsight, it was astonishing that Elan, who had all the knowledge of the Age of Legends, couldn't have provided even a simple bathtub. All she'd had was the plain washbasin in her bedroom.

The mattress was stuffed with goose feathers and she lay on it for hours, even during the day, relishing its softness. They actually shared the bed, which was excessively large, although neither of them ever really discussed it. She simply took for granted the fact that he didn't think of her that way.


	24. Deliciously unsuspecting

He awoke as a ray of sunshine filtered through the room and fell across his face. He lay there a while longer, luxuriating in the softness of the bed. The girl wasn't there. He had taken to sleep in since their arrival in Cairhien a few days past. It must be around noon for the sun to be high enough to reach their room. Sitting up slowly, he let out a yawn and stretched languorously. Neya stood on the balcony, wearing a simple night shift. Did she not realise how enticing she looked? In all fairness, she probably didn't.

She'd been taking an incredibly long time soaking in the large copper tube in the next room, the day they arrived in the palace, so long that he'd fallen asleep on the bed. He woke up in the middle of the night to find her there, her back to him, but so close that he could have heard her heart beat, if he'd embraced _saidin_. He tried to do that as seldom as possible, these days, to avoid any unnecessary contact with the taint. How truly unnerving it was, to know that he was now subject to it.

After that strange first night, they began sleeping in the bed together, and she seemed to find that perfectly normal. She hadn't even mentioned it, in fact. It was a large bed, granted, but still, he would only need to reach his arm to touch her. He found it… unflattering… that she felt so at ease around him.

He hadn't thought much of her at first, in the early days following her release from Mierin's care. She was annoying, loquacious and incredibly persistent. She never missed an opportunity to call him by any sort of ridiculously cheesy nickname, and she pestered him with thousands of questions, this little girl who talked of what was now called the Age of Legends as if she'd been alive in those days. He had been too busy brooding and reflecting on his predicament to pay her much attention. But as the days went by, and as he was forced to pretend to care for her, on al'Thor's orders, he'd found himself beginning to develop a certain fondness for the girl, with her easy smiles and her candid demeanour. She exuded such radiant effervescence, and she was so genuine.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until she disappeared that he noticed how much he'd relied on her presence, as if they were both survivors from a ship wreck that had landed on a strange island populated by primitives. That was a word that fitted the Aiel perfectly, as far as he was concerned. Of course, no one of this Age was particularly sophisticated, but these were odd specimens indeed.

Al'Thor had been furious upon hearing that she was gone. The boy seemed convinced that Natael and Lanfear had plotted to have her removed, although when Natael asked him why they would do such a thing, he'd had no ready answer.

He had begun to think of himself as Natael early in his captivity. It was safer that way. He was less likely to give away any clue as to who he really was. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure who he was anymore.

The aftermath of his struggle with al'Thor in Rhuidean had been deeply disturbing. The more he reflected on the matter, the less he was able to comprehend it. He had been one of the Chosen for so long that he was having trouble remembering what it was like to be a mere mortal, a part of the common rabble. Mierin's shield only made things worse. He had gone from being one of the most powerful male channelers alive to one of the weakest.

Isendre appeared two days after they left Rhuidean. It happened exactly as he'd described it before to Neya: the Friend of the Dark had slipped into his tent and simply removed her clothes, then waited for him to proceed, as if she'd had no doubt that he would do as he was supposed to. And, fool that he was, he had obediently fulfilled her expectations.

Obviously, she had been sent to spy on him. That was clear from the start. He could tell from the contempt on her face as he fondled her that she was not enjoying any of this. Well, he would be damned if he didn't get to enjoy himself. Why wouldn't he? There was nothing else for him to do. His former life had been ripped away from him, his immortality and the Great Lord's protection cut out in one swift movement. He could barely channel a trickle of the Power, and what little he had was corrupted. He had never imagined how vile the taint would feel, how _wrong_. He was so used to be one of the most powerful men in the world that he hadn't realised how much he depended on _saidin_. Without it, he was naked, defenceless. He had no other way of taking care of himself. He had always been depressingly inept with a sword – or any sort of physical weapon, really – not that it had ever mattered before. He remembered feeling contemptuous of his former male associates for their obsession with swords, Demandred most of all. Well, the man's real obsession was to destroy Lews Therin. Whether he accomplished that with a sword or another weapon was probably irrelevant at this point.

In any case, it made sense. Lanfear sent Neya to spy on him, told her to get into his bed, and when Mierin realised her minion had failed to comply, she had been replaced by Isendre and the Great Lord only knew what happened to Neya.

And then she reappeared, out of the blue, looking the worst for wear. He didn't know what happened to her and she seemed reluctant to talk about it, even now that they'd made peace. Al'Thor said Mierin wasn't involved, which only made it all the more mysterious. He remembered seeing Neya that morning, with her brown hair all tangled from sleep and her face pale from whatever it was she had been up to. She had a haunted air about her, not at all her usual light-hearted self.

He'd wanted to go to her, but that was out of the question. He could see how that would look from everyone else's perspective, what with him cavorting with a thieving woman that was unanimously hated, and that only days after his supposed lover had tragically vanished. He wouldn't be able to approach her as long as Isendre was here. Mierin wouldn't be too pleased with that. At least the girl was alive.

He wasn't sure what happened to Isendre, not exactly. The woman was certainly dead, of that he had no doubt. As to who had done the killing, or why, he could only guess. Not that it mattered, of course. He was to be rid of her, he didn't mind admitting. She had been a more than adequate lover, but incredibly dense. In any case, it meant he was free to approach Neya again. Although it clearly wouldn't be easy, judging by the condemning looks most everyone still gave him.

He supposed he had more or less expected the girl to take him back without a word; they would pretend to make up and it would be as if nothing ever happened. It was in everyone's best interest. They had been pretending all along, after all. She had no reason to be irate, let alone jealous. Therefore her outburst had come as a shock. After the girl had given him an earful – and two mighty slaps; she was stronger than she looked – he had been more confused than angry. After all, she was the one who disappeared in the first place, abandoning him to his sombre fate. He had more right to be angry than she did. The truth was that he hadn't noticed that she cared for him in that way. For that matter, he hadn't realised _he_ cared for her, not until recently.

It really hit him that day after the attack, before Isendre's sudden… departure. Neya was wandering among the corpses, asking around, obviously looking for someone. Al'Thor had just left Natael's tent after their talk of Sammael and his possible implication in the attack. On a whim, he decided to go to her, to make sure she was alright. Before he'd gone ten steps, however, she had stopped dead in her tracks and stumbled to the ground. Apparently, she had found what she'd been looking for, and it wasn't what she expected. It made him hesitate. She sat there for a long time, obviously dazed, her eyes blank, tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks. When he finally decided to join her, however, Mandragoran had suddenly appeared out of nowhere to carry her away. Cursing the man under his breath, Natael went back to his tent, where Isendre waited for him. She had half-heartedly tried to entice him but he'd finally done what he should have done days ago, what he should have done the first time she had walked into his tent: he sent her away. He was well aware that he was the most likely cause of her sudden departure, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was relieved when Neya apologised the next day, almost grateful. They'd spend most of the next few days together, talking and joking, in a much more natural way than they had in Rhuidean. She was her old self once more, delightfully annoying, teasing and sarcastic. She had been very curious about his relation with Ishamael, something she had never mentioned before. It surprised him that Ishamael told her about it. They hadn't exactly parted in good terms.

It had been well before the War of Power, before the Collapse, when they'd still been known by their former names. He hadn't even earned his third name at the time. He was playing background music in any place that would let him. It was his first time performing in the Ansaline Gardens and he was nervous. It was a prestigious venue, often crowded with all sorts of important people. He had hoped to be noticed by the person that would enable him to finally become the famous musician he was destined to be. Instead, he'd met Elan Morin Tedronai.

He was well over three hundred years old, and already renowned, having earned his third name some fifty years past. He was also very striking, in an elegant way. They'd made eye contact as he was performing and the man offered to buy him a drink afterward. They spent that night together at Natael's place, and most of the nights that followed. It had been a short, passionate fling, with half their time spent arguing and the other half making up. It had been pleasant, for a while at least. Then Elan had begun to show signs of extreme moodiness and it had all gone downhill from there, ending with Natael making a spectacular scene in – ironically enough – the Ansaline Gardens. He hadn't seen the man again until he'd decided to join the Shadow, and Ishamael – calling him Elan would have been a grave mistake at that point – had been quick to point out that anything that happened between them was long buried in the past. Of course by then he'd been more than half-mad already.

He shook his head slightly, dispelling the reminiscences. Neya hadn't moved. He wondered what she was looking at, what she was thinking about. Letting out another yawn, he heaved himself off the bed and walked into the other room to freshen up. After donning a new shirt, he joined her on the balcony. The light was making a halo around her soft brown hair. She was leaning casually over the railing, apparently lost in thought. It was hard to believe that such an innocent-looking girl could have outlived the most fearsome of all the Chosen and deceived Lanfear besides, and that under torture.

"Good afternoon," she said without turning, the grin obvious in her voice. "Had your beauty sleep?" she added teasingly.

He smiled at her back, moving closer, until he was standing right behind her. She turned around slowly, clearly wondering what he was up to. Before she could open her mouth, he kissed her as thoroughly as he knew how.

* * *

She was so stunned that, for a moment, she responded almost reflexively. Of course, that caused him to kiss her even more fiercely. He placed his hands around her waist, pressing her against the railing.

She had to stop this. Panting a little, she put her hands on his chest and disentangled herself from him, gently but firmly. "What's wrong?" he murmured roughly, sounding breathless. He reached up with his hand to brush back a strand of her hair. "Too fast?" he asked softly, one eyebrow arched teasingly.

She shook her head. "We can't do that," she whispered. He frowned at her. "I'm sorry," she said, moving away from him and into the room.

"And why not? We've been pretending for over a month. It's about time we put all that practice to good use," he told her with a grin. He took a step toward her, but she raised a hand to forestall him.

"I mean it, Jay. I never make the same mistake twice," she said quietly.

"Mistake?" he asked, obviously confused. "What mistake?"

"I got close to Elan and look how _that_ turned out."

He let out a short bark of laughter. "I hope you're not comparing me with Ishamael, girl," he said with some of the scorn he'd often displayed around her, back in Rhuidean. "The man was mad. He got himself killed because he was in over his head and couldn't even see it. I know better than that. I have absolutely no intention of being killed. Mark my words: immortal or not, I plan on having a very long life," he told her forcefully.

"I doubt anyone ever _plans_ on dying or being killed," she pointed out.

"Neya," he said, raising his hands in a calming gesture, "I understand it must have been hard on you, but that's all behind you now. You're safe here. We both are. We are under the protection of the most powerful man in the world. What could possibly go wrong?"

"The most dangerous man, you mean. The most likely to get us all killed. Surely you can see that?" she said with a hint of desperation in her voice.

Cautiously, he closed the distance between them, enfolding her in his arms and stroking her hair. "I won't allow that," he whispered in her ear. Slowly, he lifted her chin to him, kissing her softly.

Soon, it was too late to stop anything.


	25. Mortality weighs heavily on me

Later that day, long after night had fallen on Cairhien, Mat knocked on his sister's door. Hers and Natael's, he amended with a scowl. Burn Neya, what could she possibly see in the man? He had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his little sister, who had been a girl when she disappeared over a year ago, was now a grown woman. With flaming terrible taste in men.

That wasn't the reason of his visit, of course. He'd had a pretty disturbing night, what with Melindhra attempting to stick a knife in him and all that. He still couldn't quite grasp the fact that he'd killed her, which was more or less the reason for his coming here in the middle of the bloody night. If Melindhra could turn out to be a Darkfriend, why not the gleeman, or anyone else for that matter?

Neya opened the door a crack and smiled when she saw him. Apparently, she hadn't been sleeping, although her hair was tousled. She gestured for him to come inside. Thankfully, Natael wasn't here. They settled in the two chairs on the balcony. "Is everything alright?" she asked with a frown. "You look a bit peaky."

Mat snorted. "Nothing out of the ordinary, really. The woman who's been sharing my blankets for the last few weeks tried to kill me, but I killed her first," he told her darkly.

"Melindhra?" Neya asked, shock painted on her face. Mat nodded. "Burn my eyes! What did you do to her?" Mat gave her an outraged look but, before he could say anything, she raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry. But I never did like her, you know," she went on with a faint grimace. "Why did she attack you?" she asked in a more serious tone.

Mat let out a deep sigh. "She was a Darkfriend," he muttered. "One of Sammael's. At least, I think she was. She had a knife with nine golden bees, so I assume it was him," he said. Suddenly he put his head in his hands. "I shared my bed with a bloody Darkfriend!"

Neya put a hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known," she told him in a comforting voice. "But why did she decide to attack you now? She certainly had better opportunities to stab you in the past," she said with a frown.

"She went rabid when I told her Rand was sending me to lead his army against Sammael. She was probably trying to buy some time so she could warn him. I don't know," he said lamely.

"Rand is sending you to Illian? At the head of an army?" Her voice grew increasingly incredulous as she spoke.

"He seems to think I have a knack for it," he muttered sourly.

"Look who's there," Natael called from the doorway. He hadn't bothered to knock. "Matrim bloody Cauthon himself. The hero who slayed Couladin in single combat and lead his band of merry men to victory with barely a loss," he said dramatically. Mat shot him a baleful glare. Bloody gleeman. Natael grinned at him.

Neya sighed softly. "Behave, boys. Mat, do you want to stay here tonight?" she asked, concerned.

"Hey, I'm not a child!" he told her indignantly. Bloody woman. Neya gave him a bright smile, showing teeth. "Burn you," he grumbled, rising to his feet. "I just came here to warn you. Be careful. You never know who will be trying to stick a knife in you," he said with a pointed look in the gleeman's direction. They both chuckled softly. Burn them! "I'll see you tomorrow," he threw the words over his shoulder as he exited the room.

* * *

"Do you think it was Sammael?" she asked Natael some time later as they lay in bed.

"Hard to tell," he replied quietly. "It could have been Rahvin, trying to deflect attention from himself. Or any of the others, really. Who knows what they're up to?" he said, holding back a yawn.

"When Rand goes to face Rahvin tomorrow, I'm coming along," she announced matter-of-factly.

That brought him up short. "You can't come. You can't channel! What are you going to do when we're under attack?" he asked, staring at her in disbelief.

She gave him a sweet smile. "You do realise that, of the two of us, I'm the most likely to survive a sword fight, don't you?" she said teasingly. "Besides, I won't be the only person there who can't channel."

"Do you really believe that Rahvin or Sammael or any of them will give you the opportunity to demonstrate your sparring abilities before they crush you like an insect?" he asked sarcastically. "Well, Demandred might," he amended reluctantly, "but you won't live to tell about it."

"What was he like?" she questioned him suddenly. "Demandred. Did you know him? Before the War of Power, I mean."

He frowned slightly at the change of topic. "If you think I'm going to let it slide…" he began.

"I know you won't. I also know that I don't need your permission to go," she told him fiercely. He started to open his mouth. "Don't bother. It's the price you have to pay for putting me in this situation. If you're going to be in danger, I want to be there to make sure nothing happens to you," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. He muttered something under his breath. It sounded a lot like a curse in the Old Tongue.

"Fine," he said eventually. "I didn't know him well, but I encountered him a few times, at social gatherings and such events."

"Really? Elan said he wasn't keen on that sort of things."

"He wasn't. He spent most of his time glaring at Lews Therin and drinking alone in a corner. At least when he wasn't being pursued by some woman," he said. "I only spoke to him once or twice, in passing. Before he turned to the Shadow, I mean. Not that he ever talked to me much after he became one of us," he added with a sneer. "Thought highly of himself, Demandred did. Everyone else was beneath his notice."

 _The crow calls the raven black,_ Neya thought amusedly. He was always quick to point out flaws in others but rarely acknowledged his own. "Did?" she said out loud. "He's still alive, isn't he?" she asked with a frown.

"As far as I know. I haven't seen him or even heard of him since I… woke up," he said after a brief hesitation.

"What was it like, waking up in Shayol Ghul after all this time?"

He didn't answer right away. "It felt like suddenly coming to your senses after passing out from too much drinking," he said eventually. "We didn't realise what was happening. The last memory I have, before pulling myself off the floor, was of Ishamael cursing and charging toward the exit, Aginor and Balthamel on his heels. Next thing I know, I'm on the floor and Rahvin is giving me a quizzical look. A few of the others were still… asleep, Demandred among them," he went on. "I picked myself up, asked Ared what happened, but he simply shook his head in puzzlement. We couldn't wake the others, so we decided to go out. There was nothing outside. A few Trollocs, some Shades. No armies. The sky was different. The whole world looked different."

"Wait," she cut in. "You had no idea that you'd been asleep? Or unconscious, or whatever it was?" she asked in a surprised voice. He shook his head. "So, when you went out, you didn't know that three thousand years had just passed you by," she went on.

He shook his head again. "No idea whatsoever. We looked around for a long time, trying to make sense of it. Then Ishamael appeared," he said. "His eyes and mouth were on fire. He was clearly not all there, and the more he explained, the more I wondered if he'd gone mad, plain and simple. I couldn't believe it, you see. It's one thing to be promised immortality, and quite another to realise you've just spent three thousand years… sleeping. We stared at him in shock, and he laughed like a loon at the look on our faces. When he recovered he told us to follow him. We stepped into a library of sorts, although it looked nothing like any library I'd ever seen. It was small and dingy and it smelled horrible. I still don't know where it was. He showed us a few books, most of them written in a language neither Ared nor I could make sense of. The Common Tongue," he clarified when she frowned. "Neither of us could understand it at the time, you see. Ishamael had taken the time to make summaries in the Old Tongue, but he told us we would need to learn this barbaric language of yours quickly." He grimaced a little at that, to show how much he'd appreciated the process. " _Lews Therin Telamon: the Kinslayer_. _A Brief Account of the Breaking_. _The Life and Dead of Artur Hawkwing_. Others as well, I don't remember all the titles. Ishamael talked as we read his notes. How Lews Therin had sealed the Great Lord's prison. The taint, the madness. We were stunned into silence. He explained what he'd been up to until now, or part of it, and said that only Aginor, Balthamel, Be'lal, Sammael and Mierin had awakened so far. He told us to find our marks, do some research. He'd meet with us when we'd accommodated."

They were both silent for a moment. "I can't imagine what that must have been like," she whispered, snuggling closer to him. "To have your whole life turned upside down like that, so abruptly." She knew exactly what he had been up to before he was imprisoned in Shayol Ghul, and most of it was rather gruesome, but it was still quite a traumatic experience, Forsaken or not.

He turned to face her, smiling. A genuine smile, not his usual grin or leer. "You are such a strange woman," he told her.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she said wryly. "What makes me so strange?" she asked curiously.

"The way you always put aside the bad in people and focus on the rest, no matter how well-hidden it might be," he replied softly, nuzzling her neck. "The way you care about everyone. Even me." That was all the answer she received. Things quickly escalated after that.


	26. I walk into the path of a lightning bolt

They woke up at dawn and got ready quickly. Jay was adamant that it was a terrible idea for her to accompany them in Caemlyn. After a while she stopped arguing with him. There was no point. Her mind was set.

They joined Rand in his rooms, and Jay had an earnest talk with the other man. Aviendha stood there, frowning at the gleeman. Jay finally gave Rand a low bow and retreated, dragging Neya along. "He agreed to let me prove myself, to help defeat Rahvin, but he says you can't come along. Too dangerous," he told her in a low voice.

"What makes either of you think I care what you say?" she wondered idly.

"Shall we ask Matrim what _he_ thinks of your coming with us?" he asked her with a scowl.

She laughed at that, which caused his frown to deepen. "Obviously, you don't know him very well. I told you not to bother trying to dissuade me. I'm coming, and that's that," she told him firmly. He opened his mouth again but she gave him a warning glance. "It would be a shame for you to get yourself killed before we even reached Caemlyn," she said in a dangerous voice. That shut him up – for the time being, at least.

They met Mat outside, near the stables. He scowled at her, clearly wondering what she was doing here, and reacted exactly as Jay must have hoped. But she knew how to deal with Mat. Before Jay realised what was going on, she had persuaded her brother that she would be safer coming along with them, where Mat could keep an eye on her. Who knew what could happen to her here in Cairhien, where people were said to plot against each other in their sleep? Mat finally agreed, reluctantly, as she had known he would. She gave Jay a triumphant smile.

Apparently, they were going to stop by the docks before Traveling to Caemlyn. Moiraine said there was something for Rand to see. They made their way there swiftly and headed for the peddlers' wagons. She wasn't sure what happened afterward, exactly. She had remained a little way behind, talking with Mat.

Suddenly Lanfear was there, and Power-induced fire erupted all around them. Chaos ensued, but it was over before she knew it. Moiraine suddenly jumped out of nowhere, grappled briefly with Lanfear, and they both fell through the twisted _ter'angreal_ that had led Neya to the realm of the Finn not so long ago.

Egwene had been seriously harmed, although her life didn't seem to be in imminent danger. _If I can't embrace the Source even when Egwene is hurt, I never will_ , Neya thought miserably. Rand seemed to be in shock, and Lan was suddenly packing his horse and getting ready to leave, it appeared. Jay and Mat were both alright, however, and that was what mattered the most to her at the moment.

She saw Rand argue with one of the Maidens – she thought her name was Sulin – and the Dragon Reborn seemed to reach a decision. Apparently, they were still going to Caemlyn.

* * *

She followed Jay onto the platform that Rand had created to take them to the Royal Palace in Caemlyn. Rand gave her a weary look, but said nothing. They were followed by Aiel, as many as could be held onto the platform. When it was full, the gateway slowly vanished. Mat swore and muttered something about the Ways, which earned him a startled look from Jay. The gleeman held tightly to her as they… moved.

At least she assumed they were moving. There was no sense of motion at all in the void that surrounded them. They remained there for half an hour or so, to the best of her estimation, and everyone stood very still. Finally, they must have reached their destination, because another gateway opened, revealing a slope that ended in a high wall. Everyone went out.

She could see Jay nervously fingering the hilt of the sword he had brought with him. The man had told her he was pretty much useless with it, and she believed him. He'd had trouble even sheathing it properly this morning. She was glad she'd come along. Strangely, Lanfear's shield hadn't vanished when the woman died. Jay was almost as defenceless as a new-born babe.

There was no one around, not a soul beside the Aiel fanning across the empty street and scaling the wall ahead. Suddenly the wall blew apart, sending some of the Aiel flying and revealing Trollocs charging through the openings. In their midst, she spotted dark-clad shapes slithering on the ground. Myrdraal, she was sure they must be. Their eyeless gaze sought her out, sending shivers of fear through her spine. Jay placed himself in front of her, sword out. _Fool man_ , she thought fondly. She stepped to the side, smoothly slashing her own sword – she'd acquired a proper blade once they'd settled in Cairhien – across a beaked Trolloc's chest.

She fought for a long time and paid little attention to the bolts of lightning that crashed around her, until she stumbled over a charred corpse. It had a blackened harpcase strapped to its back. She looked around frantically, certain that Jay had to be somewhere else. She saw her brother sprawled on the ground just a few paces away from her, smoke rising from his spear and coat. His were already glazed. Aviendha was down too, but Neya barely noticed. Suddenly _saidar_ filled her, sweetness and joy and sheer power almost overwhelming her.

* * *

Rahvin had been destroyed, although Neya hardly heard Rand when he announced it. Jay and Mat were talking quietly and looking at her with concern. She couldn't help staring at them in astonishment. One moment they had been dead – very much dead, no matter what she did with _saidar_ – and the next they were getting back on their feet as if nothing had happened. She had been shocked out of her wits, laughing and crying hysterically at the same time.

They had both been frowning at her ever since. She knew what must have happened. Jay had explained to her the effects of balefire and the consequences it could have. But it was one thing to hear about it and quite another to witness it first-hand, especially in such circumstances. They both asked her what was wrong, several times, but she couldn't bring herself to tell them.

* * *

They moved to the Royal Gardens a while later and Jay put his arm around her waist as they made their way there, Mat and Aviendha trailing after them. She still had trouble accepting that they were alive and she was afraid that if she let either of them out of her sight, they would be gone again. Her brother settled down near the fountain with the Aiel woman and they talked for a time. Jay led her to one of the benches on the side, in the shade of a red myrtle tree.

"Neya, talk to me," he urged her for the thirteenth time. "What happened? Are you hurt?" She shook her head slightly without answering. He stared at her a moment longer, as if trying to read her mind for clues, but gave up after a few minutes. He unstrapped his harp and played something soft and comforting, a tune she'd never heard before. She laid her head on his shoulder, allowing the music to fill her mind, anything to replace the images of Jay and Mat lying dead on the paved street, not so far from here.

She couldn't be with him. She'd known from the start that attaching herself to him was a terrible mistake, and she'd been right. She had to leave, and soon. She realised he'd stopped playing, instead encircling her in his arms and stroking her hair. She was crying again.

Suddenly he straightened and announced cheerfully that she needed wine. "Wine makes everything better," he said conspiratorially, rising from the bench. He offered her his hands, heaving her up on her feet. "We should find something decent in there," he went on, indicating a door that seemed to lead to one of the wine cellars. He pulled the door open and held it for her. "Ladies first," he told her with a grin, bowing slightly.


	27. How swiftly you dismiss our love

There was a woman inside. She was tall and voluptuous, with red-gold hair flowing in curls around her head, and she was a channeler, a powerful one. Behind her, Neya heard Jay gasp. She didn't hesitate. Embracing the Source, she weaved something to shield both of them from whatever Graendal – she was quite certain it was her – had in store for them and was rewarded by the stunned look that passed across the Forsaken's face. Without a moment's hesitation, the older woman vanished.

There was a long silence. "You channeled," Jay whispered eventually.

She turned to face him. "I did," she said, wonder in her voice. "Does that mean the block is gone?" she asked him.

"Probably," he replied carefully. "That was Graendal," he added conversationally.

Neya nodded. "I know. We should warn Rand," she said briskly, all trace of her stupor at the recent events evaporated.

When they found him, the Dragon Reborn was talking with a rather short, slender man with greying hair. The door was open, so they stood just outside the room while Rand explained to the man – whom he referred to as Lord Bashere – that he intended to proclaim an amnesty for all men who could channel, Mazrim Taim included. She had no idea who Mazrim Taim was, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.

Finally? Lord Bashere gave Rand a small bow and departed, eying them curiously on his way out. Rand gestured for them to approach.

"Rand, Graendal just tried to kill him," Neya announced without preamble, indicating Jay.

Dropping his goblet, Rand jumped to his feet, looking around the room as if he expected the Forsaken to appear right then and there. "Where? What happened?" he asked crisply.

"In one of the wine cellars, down in the gardens. She fled when she realised I was stronger than her," Neya explained casually.

They both stared at her in astonishment. "You are? Stronger than her, I mean?" Rand asked incredulously.

Neya nodded, pursing her lips. "I think so. I haven't really learned how to estimate these things. Anyway, I wove some kind of ward – don't ask me exactly what I did, I have no idea – and she… disappeared."

"So you… channeled? But Moiraine says–" He cut off abruptly, blinking, then seemed to regain his composure. "She saidyou had a block and couldn't channel unless someone was wounded, possibly someone specific. Although she didn't say who, from what I know, I assumed it was Ishamael."

Neya nodded once more. "True. But now that I think of it, I already channeled earlier, when–" She stopped mid-sentence when she realised what she'd been about to say. Shaking her head slightly, she went on more carefully. "While you were fighting Rahvin. I don't remember much about it, but suddenly I was holding _saidar_ and trying to Heal… people," she told Rand with a pointed look, avoiding Jay's curious gaze.

"Can you embrace _saidar_ now?" Rand asked. She could, and she did. For the third time that day, the Power filled her. It truly was an intoxicating feeling. No wonder people burned themselves out by channeling too much. Rand nodded slowly. "Good. I can use that," she heard him mutter. She couldn't have made out the words if she hadn't been holding _saidar_.

"I'd be happy to assist in any way I can," she said quietly, causing him to flinch. "What was it about this amnesty? What you were telling Lord Bashere? What do you intend to do exactly?"

Rand considered her for a moment. "I mean to gather all men who can channel and give them proper training, so they can fight for me in the Last Battle," he answered truthfully.

"You want to turn them into weapons," she said flatly. Rand simply nodded. Light, but her old friend had become cold. "How can I help?" Jay was frowning at her.

"How could you? They're men. Even if you can channel at will, you can't teach them anything," Rand told her.

"Even if I _could_ teach them to become weapons, I wouldn't," she replied coolly. "But if you're going to gather them all in one place, you will need someone to organise them, handle the logistics, that sort of things," she went on.

They were both frowning at her now. "Of course," Rand said suddenly, slapping his forehead. "I almost forgot." He let out a long breath. "You want to help them. I understand that, Neya, but is it really a good idea? I assumed you would want to go home, once this business with Rahvin was done. Especially now that Lanfear is gone," he murmured. Moiraine's abrupt loss apparently burdened him more than she had thought it would. They hadn't seemed particularly close.

Jay cleared his throat loudly, as if to remind them both that he was still there. "Maybe we could both help, my Lord Dragon. I could teach the men, even with the shield, and Neya can help with the rest," he supplied hopefully.

Rand was shaking his head before he was done talking. "No, you will stay with me," he said firmly. The older man opened his mouth to argue, but Rand forestalled him. "I trust you, Natael, to an extent, but I'm not willing to let you out of my sight, not quite yet. Besides, I can make use of your insights." He turned to Neya. "You're right, however. I will need someone I can trust to take care of the male channelers when I'm not around, and I won't be, most of the time. Light knows I don't have time to spare," he whispered almost inaudibly.

"Do you mean for her to do that on her own? To be surrounded by men who can channel, men who will eventually go insane? With all due respect, my Lord Dragon, this _is_ insane!" Jay blurted out.

"I can take care of myself, Jay," Neya told him coolly.

He rounded on her. "Can we at least talk about this? When did you even decide you wanted to leave?" he asked her sharply.

"Very well," she said, turning to Rand. "I will come back later, when we've sorted this out." Rand nodded, already dismissing them from his mind.

They walked back to the gardens in silence, Jay glowering at everyone who passed them by. Mat and Aviendha were gone when they arrived, so Neya went to the fountain and sat on its edge. Jay followed her, stomping on the wilted grass angrily. "What in the Pit of Doom was _that_ all about?" he hissed at her.

"I need to get away from you," she replied softly. "I told you it was a bad idea. I shouldn't have let you talk me into this," she said with a gesture encompassing the both of them.

He looked at her indignantly. "I didn't exactly force you into anything, you know! And why is it a bad idea? Because of Graendal? Is that what you're afraid of? That they'll all come for you? You don't think I can keep you safe?"

He looked as though he wanted to keep asking pointless questions, so she interrupted him. "Who kept whom safe, back in the cellar?" she inquired quietly. He opened his mouth but closed it again a second later. He hadn't done anything even remotely helpful in there, and he knew it. "I'm not blaming you, Jay, I'm just making a point. And it's not me I'm worried about. You should know better than that by now."

"But you're not making any sense! Look, you're right. I was useless against Graendal. I _am_ useless," he snarled at her. "If you hadn't been there, I would have died. But that's exactly my point! If you leave, who will look out for me? Al'Thor?" he snorted. "He doesn't care whether I live or die. I've taught him what he needed to know. I'm too weak to teach him anything else, and he knows that. He keeps me around because no matter what he says, he still doesn't trust me. He never will."

Why did he have to make things even more difficult? Did he think she _wanted_ to leave him? "So you want me to stay to be your bodyguard?" she asked sarcastically.

"Of course not! I just don't understand why you want to go. If you're afraid something might happen to me, wouldn't it make more sense for you to make sure nothing happens, by staying close to me? Or do you just want to be far away when something _does_ happen?" he went on in a snarky tone.

"I can't go through this again," she whispered. "First Elan, then you…" She trailed off as yet another image of his charred body flashed in her mind. She gave herself a shake. "I can't lose you again. Do you have any idea what it was like for me, earlier? Or haven't you figured out what happened yet?" she told him, suddenly angry.

That took him aback. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "I… died, didn't I?" he asked uncertainly. "The balefire he used on Ared brought me back," he went on, without hesitation this time. He had probably known this before she asked, but hadn't dared admit it to himself.

"You and Mat both. The lightning must have struck you just after the Trollocs emerged. I stood weeping over your corpse for over half an hour, Jay," she murmured in a tight voice. "Do you have any idea how that felt?" she asked again, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I can't say that I do," he muttered, reaching for her. She pulled away from him. "Neya, it won't happen again," he told her.

"How can you say that with a straight face? You follow the Dragon Reborn and you're considered a traitor by the Forsaken, by the Dark One itself! How can you possibly tell me nothing like this will ever happen again?" she asked him incredulously.

"You're right, I can't," he admitted reluctantly, "but I do know we'd all be a lot safer if you stuck around," he told her with an edge of desperation in his voice.

She was shaking her head before he finished. "I can't," she muttered. "I just can't, I'm sorry," she said again, standing up. "I care about you, more than you might think, and certainly more than I should. But I can't be with you." Without another word, she walked past him and made her way back to the palace. He called after her, but she didn't look back.


	28. Thus far, a rather uninspiring thing

Two days later, Rand took her to a small farm and told her he would send all those who applied for the amnesty her way. The place had been deserted during Rahvin's reign in Andor. It was in relatively good condition and some of the animals had been left behind. She was alone at first, so she took care of everything on her own. In the course of the following week, she cleaned the place from top to bottom, making way for cots and pallets to be brought up at need. She thought the main building could hold at least twenty people, if need be. The barn could accommodate at least twice that number.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure what to expect. How many male channelers could there be left in the world? The Red Ajah usually made certain they didn't live long enough to become a danger. Of course, the Aes Sedai didn't actually kill them. The men were stilled, cut off from _saidin_ for the rest of their natural lives. Most men didn't survive the loss, however.

Besides, if anyone did come, she had to admit she was a bit apprehensive as to the kind of men that might show up. She expected criminals and runaways of all sorts might find this amnesty particularly interesting.

On the eighth day, someone arrived.

A cart appeared around noon, and a single man got out, looking around dubiously. He was of medium build and corpulence, almost bald and quite old. He seemed to be limping. She went out to meet him. "Morning," she told him brightly as the cart made its way back to the city. "You're here about the amnesty, aren't you?" The man gave her a small nod, eyeing her uncertainly. "Don't worry, you've got the right place. I'm Neya," she went on, thrusting her hand forward.

He gave it a firm shake. "Damer Flinn," he introduced himself.

"Well, let's get you inside. I'll make some tea," she announced cheerfully. She grabbed one of the man's bags and made her way toward the house without waiting to see if he followed.

She dropped the bag near the entrance and told him to do the same with the rest of his belongings. A few minutes later, they were both settled at the table with a steaming cup of tea. "I suppose you were expecting something a bit more… formal." Flinn gave her a contrite smile. "Truth is, you're the first person to show up. Rand – the Dragon Reborn – wasn't sure how many people would answer his proclamation, and I'm not entirely certain he's thought it all through. There is no one to teach or even test people for the spark yet. If you're intent on staying, you will have to wait until someone comes along, and there's no telling how long that might take." Better to be straightforward from the start. The man might have somewhere else to be, there was no point in wasting his time here.

He appeared to consider this while sipping his tea. "No one's waiting for me," he finally told her. "Might as well stay," he added with a shrug.

She grinned at him. "I'm glad to hear it. Where do you come from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I'm Andoran. Served in the Queen's Guard for thirty years," he said simply. "Took an arrow in the knee a few years back and had to retire," he went on with another shrug, "but I got bored. When I heard 'bout the amnesty, I figured I might as well give it a try. I'd like to learn Healing, most of all."

"Speaking of Healing, has anyone ever taken a look at your knee? I couldn't help but notice that you limp a little," she said timidly.

He shook his head. "It was years ago. Can't do nothing about it now," he said matter-of-factly.

"Do you mind if I try anyway?" she prompted him.

He looked at her in surprise. "You're an Aes Sedai?"

"No!" she said, louder than she intended. "No, not an Aes Sedai," she went on in a softer tone. "Just a channeler. A wilder, if you will. I'm good at Healing," she explained.

He chewed on that for a moment. "Well, why not? You never know."

She got up to stand beside him. "I need to hold your head. It helps." Many Aiel had been injured during the battle against Rahvin's armies of Shadowspawn. Since her block had vanished, she had taken the opportunity to test the extent of her Healing abilities in the little time before she was transferred here at the farm. Damer gave her a brief nod and she placed her hands on his temples. _Saidar_ filled her. She barely even thought about it anymore. Her block was already a far-distant memory. She heard him gasp softly. A moment later, she stepped back, letting her hands drop to her sides. She peered at him, eyes narrowed. "Well? How do you feel? Did it work?" she asked him impatiently.

"Only one way to find out," he said, standing up. He stretched his leg, bent it and took a few hesitant steps. He looked at her in wonder. "I can't believe it," he murmured. "It's gone! It's like it was never even there," he marvelled. Suddenly he launched into a little jig, laughing in delight.

Neya chuckled. "Are you sure you want to stay here?"

He stopped dancing, growing serious once more. "Now more than ever," he replied earnestly.

"Well then. Won't be able to escape chores now," she told him with a small grin. "Also, I assume you can use that sword," she went on, pointing at the blade that poked out of one of his bags. He nodded, obviously wondering where she was going with this. "I could use a sparring partner," she said.

His eyes widened. "You're full of surprises," he said with a note of admiration.

She shrugged lightly. "How about I make us some dinner? You will be hungry, after the Healing. You can get settled while I cook and we'll see about getting some practice later," she put in. He nodded. She showed him to the rooms upstairs and set to fix them some stew. _Finally_ , she thought, _someone to help with the chores_.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, more men joined them, some accompanied by their families. There were now a dozen children and as many women, wives and sweethearts who had agreed to follow their men even here. Damer was the oldest, Eben Hopwil the youngest. The skinny boy was only sixteen, even younger than Neya herself. Fedwin Morr was about her own age. The others ranged from twenty to forty-five. Most of them were Andoran.

Memec Kesunyian, a sturdy man in his early thirties and the only Domani applicant so far, arrived soon after Damer, with his two daughters. Their mother died four years ago. The eldest, Karys, a skinny, dark-haired girl of eight, explained it all to Neya soon after they arrived because, as it turned out, her father was mute. She was incredibly mature for her age, because she'd had to take care of her little sister so their father could work. Ilawen was a spirited, chatty five-year-old with an incredible mass of curly brown hair and sparkly green eyes. They had taken to Neya right away, and she to them.

The other women – the wives, as everybody called them, including themselves, whether they were married or not – had taken up the more domestic chores without any real consultation. Sora Grady looked after the children with two of the younger women; Dany Malone and Meira Huldin were now in charge of the kitchens and Dottie Malk overlooked the laundry, with the help of the remaining women and some of the older children.

Neya was left to give a few orders, mostly for form, and make sure no one starved. She'd made arrangements, with Damer's help, to receive daily supplies from Caemlyn. At Neya's suggestion, they had both begun to give sword lessons to the men, mostly to keep them occupied. Of course, the men received their fair share of chores, from mucking the stables to feeding the animals and cutting firewood. The few applicants who possessed some skill with masonry or carpentry had started to work on repairing the barn and house.

Neya made it clear to everyone that she had no idea when they would be tested and begin their training. Rand had made no appearance since the day he brought her here and she had received no message from him. So far, only five applicants had left the farm, although she strongly suspected that their wives had been the main reason for their departure.

Then one afternoon, the mighty Lord Dragon himself suddenly popped out of the woods surrounding the farmyard, followed – or rather preceded – by his usual retinue of Maidens and talking to a man Neya didn't recognise.

He was handsome and tall, if not quite of a height with Rand, with dark hair and a hooked nose. He had a commanding way about him, as if he was used to being obeyed without question. The laugh lines at the corners of his mouth were deep, although he didn't appear particularly cheerful. His clothes were suitable for a well-to-do merchant, if a little worn, although the man himself looked nothing like a merchant. He had a dangerous air about him. He seemed to be in his late twenties.

Rand saw Neya and made his way toward her, still discussing with the older man, and she moved to meet them halfway. The other man gave her a brief glance when she approached but appeared to dismiss her a moment later, never interrupting his conversation with Rand. Her old friend gave her a warm smile, and only then did the newcomer take a good look at her. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through her soul, making her feel almost naked. She focused on Rand. "Good of you to make an appearance, my Lord Dragon," she said with a mock curtsy.

His smile spread into a grin. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I got caught up in a few other matters. You know, what with _Tarmon Gai'don_ approaching and all that," he replied wryly. Neya snorted. Still grinning, Rand tilted his head slightly toward the other man. "Neya, this is Mazrim Taim. Taim, this is Neya al'Kane," he introduced them quietly.

So this was the infamous Mazrim Taim. After she'd agreed to oversee operations out there at the farm, she had questioned Rand about the man Lord Bashere seemed so intent on finding – and arresting. A False Dragon, a man who had sowed chaos and destruction throughout his native Saldaea. Why in the Pit of Doom had Rand brought him here? Surely he didn't mean to put _him_ in charge of the men?

Taim remained silent, frowning at her as if wondering why they were being introduced. She returned his stare levelly before turning her attention back to Rand. "I suppose you came here for a good reason? Other than interrupting everything?" she asked coolly, one eyebrow arched. Rand let out a small chuckle.

Something suddenly crashed into Taim, making him stumble in surprise. Neya bit back laughter as Ilawen clutched the Saldaean's leg and demanded to be carried. "Ila," Neya told her in a strangled voice, "leave the man alone." The little girl turned to her, frowning slightly, before letting go and attaching herself to Neya instead. Neya picked her up deftly. "Go tell Damer that the Lord Dragon is here. Tell him to gather everyone in the yard," she told her before setting her back on the ground. The girl bolted, shouting for Damer. Neya grinned after her.

When she turned back, Taim had such a look on his face that she was half-afraid the man might have suffered a stroke. Rand was chuckling softly. "She seems fierce," he put in lightly. Neya nodded, still smiling. Taim seemed to recover from his ordeal; his face became impassive once more, although his dark eyes flashed with unsuppressed annoyance. "Let's do this," Rand said more seriously, looking determined.

They walked into the yard proper, where Damer was assembling all the men. Most of them stared at Rand and Taim in awe and not a little apprehension. Clearly, none of them knew which one of the newcomers was the Dragon Reborn. Damer stood nearby, bellowing orders, outwardly calm, but Neya noticed that he was fingering his sword hilt nervously. Sora Grady had come out of the kitchen and was eyeing the strangers with a disapproving twist of her mouth. She had an arm firmly wrapped around her son Gadren's chest.

Rand briefly introduced himself and Taim – the assembled crowd let out a collective gasp when he announced the older man's name – then went straight to the point and told everyone to give their name to the Saldaean before he started the testing. Taim, however, appeared to run out of patience in the middle of it and beckoned Damer to approach.

It took a long time, longer than she would have thought. Taim summoned a small flame, seemingly out of nowhere, and everyone stared at it for at least ten minutes. No one spoke, not even the children. Ilawen ran back to Neya as soon as the flame appeared. Karys joined them a moment later, obviously worried. The other wives had abandoned their tasks to observe the scene and were standing in a cluster around Sora.

Eventually, Taim nodded. Apparently, against the man's expectations, Damer could be taught to channel _saidin_. Rand made excuses soon after that, pretexting urgent matters, and was followed by Taim an instant later. They seemed to argue for a moment, until the Saldaean finally stepped back reluctantly, allowing Rand to depart.

The tall man stalked back to the farmyard with a dark look on his face. Whatever had been said did not please him. He walked up to Neya, stopping so close that he seemed to loom over her. His eyes glittered dangerously. "Who are you?" he demanded sharply.

"Neya," she replied flatly. "I believe Rand made the introductions earlier," she went on dryly.

"I'm not asking for your name, girl. Why are you here? Why did he put _you_ in charge of this place? It doesn't make any sense," he hissed at her. Abruptly his face became emotionless once more. He took a deep breath before pursuing. "It makes no sense," he repeated in a lower voice, shaking his head. "He wants us both to run this place. Together. As _equals_ ," he finished scornfully.

"Well, that makes perfect sense to me," she told him brightly. He looked like someone she would enjoy annoying. He regarded her incredulously and opened his mouth to argue, but she went on heedlessly. "You should obviously be in charge of the men and everything that pertains to their training and channeling in general," she went on, "and I should be in charge of the rest." She met his dark eyes levelly. "You can't manage everything on your own, you know. I can help. I'm not as useless as you seem to think, although why you should think that when we've just met is a mystery to me."

He stared at her unblinkingly as she began, but his eyes took on a calculating cast as she went on. "Very well," he muttered eventually.

"It's not like you have a choice," she supplied crookedly.


	29. Let's get down to business

The testing took the rest of that day and most of the next. At the end of Mazrim's second day at the farm, only five men had been told that they either had the spark or could be taught to channel. The rest was sent packing. Mazrim wouldn't tolerate unnecessary distractions. As if the women and children weren't bad enough, he told her disdainfully, though only Sora remained among the wives, while her son and Memec's girls were now the last children at the farm. She was glad they were, the girls especially, and she felt awful for feeling that way. No one should have to watch their father go mad or slowly rot, depending on which happened first. Of the initial twenty-seven applicants, only Damer, Fedwin, Eben, Jur and Memec had been allowed to stay.

Mazrim was efficient, she had to admit, if not particularly likable. He was obviously used to ordering people around and expecting them to obey, which everyone did without hesitation, including grizzled Damer. Expectedly, the first thing the Saldaean taught the men was to seize _saidin_. Some of them picked up the trick fast enough, notably Damer and Eben, who both succeeded on the first day after their testing. Once the men could accomplish that, they learned basic weaves that allowed them to start fires or sweep dust with Air. Once those simple weaves were acquired, the men could use them at will to carry out their everyday chores. Mazrim said the only way to get them to progress quickly was to force them to channel as often as possible.

Damer was now very busy with his lessons, of course, so she took up the sword practice all on her own. Mazrim seemed to find it useless, but Neya pointed out to him that Rand had insisted on it.

More men arrived every day, sometimes as many as four or five at a time, although most of them were sent away as soon as Mazrim declared they couldn't channel or be taught to. By the time Rand came back a week later, there were seven students. The two latest additions to their ranks were Atal Mishraile, a brazen golden-haired man with striking blue eyes, and Jonan Adley, a youth from Altara. Neya hadn't been around when Rand appeared, but Mazrim told her he'd finally agreed for him to Travel to recruit more applicants. The Saldaean now spent most days recruiting, leaving Damer in charge of the other men.

With this new method of recruiting, the number of students grew higher and higher every day. In addition, the cart now brought as many as ten or fifteen men daily. Three weeks after Mazrim's arrival at the farm, they had gathered sixty-seven channelers. They had to set up tents to accommodate everyone and the barn was repaired entirely and extended – with the Power, of course.

Neya found herself thriving at the farm. She felt better than she had in months, maybe better than ever. This was what she was meant to do, helping people, looking out for them. She felt useful and valuable. And there were the children. Ilawen had attached herself to Neya as if she'd always known her. Karys, although she was more timid and liked to pretend that she didn't depend on anyone, often remained close to her as well.

Neya and Mazrim got along well enough, all things considered. The man was arrogant and appeared self-centred, but for all his sharp manners and dark cynicism he seemed to genuinely care about the safety and well-being of his students, as well as that of their families. After all, she supposed, he was himself a male channeler, doomed to go insane or die a slow, painful death, just like the rest of them.

They met every evening to review the events of the day. It had been Neya's suggestion that they proceed thus and, despite an irritable mutter that he had other things to see to, Mazrim agreed to it when she pointed out that otherwise, she would be bothering him with matters as they presented themselves, interrupting him constantly.

The meetings were all about logistics on her part and about the men's progress on Mazrim's, although he kept his own report to a strict minimum. Three men had burned themselves out and one casualty had had to be deplored so far. A young man named Siman Proctor had drawn too deeply on _saidin_ and literally burned himself to a crisp. It had been a gruesome scene and there had been nothing to do besides shielding the few people who happened to be nearby, something which Mazrim saw to with his usual brisk efficiency. Siman's remains had been buried behind the barn with little ceremony; he had come alone to the farm and no one knew if he had any living kin.

Unfortunately, most of the children – there were eighteen of them now – had assisted to the scene and it had taken all of the wives to get them to calm down again. Karys seemed a bit perturbed, but the little girl rarely displayed her emotions plainly. Her sister had cried for a few minutes in Neya's arms before getting distracted by a butterfly and setting down to chase it. She didn't let trifles such as this get in the way of her happiness, Ilawen didn't.

* * *

She was starting to enjoy their little evening reports. Mazrim – she had taken to call him that from the start and, although he clearly didn't like it, he had never asked her not to – quickly realised that she was, in fact, not as useless as he had assumed. She was in charge of supplies, she welcomed and settled the newcomers, organised the chores schedule and took care of every other little detail that did not involve Mazrim or the men directly. She still gave sword lessons as well, almost every day. She had kept the ledgers at first but fortunately, one of the men who failed the test, a plump Taraboner by the name of Gaio Ragioniere, had offered to supervise them, something to which she had gratefully agreed, with Mazrim's assent of course.

She was doing a pretty good job, if she did say so herself. Everyone seemed to like her and they came to her with their requests and problems without hesitation. Mazrim himself had told her that he was satisfied with the way she handled everything, and the man wasn't exactly forthcoming with compliments.

At the moment, the Saldaean wasn't giving many lessons himself, instead leaving that part to the most advanced students and concentrating on recruiting with one or two other men. One of the latest initiates to join their ranks, a pretty young man from Arafel named Jahar Narishma, would likely surpass everyone at the farm, excepting Mazrim himself, once he reached his full potential. Others had been found that were quite strong, although so far, Damer was still the most powerful of them all. The old man progressed rapidly and seemed to have a special affinity with Healing, which was good, since it was what he had come to learn in the first place. He was now in charge of the testing of the daily arrivals and also taught basic Healing to the most recent students. The former soldier had taken to the farm – the school, as Mazrim called it – like a fish to water.

"What is it?" she asked Mazrim suddenly. He seemed even more distant than usual and she could tell he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. He looked at her, frowning slightly. He must have thought his face was expressionless and found it odd that she'd noticed something was bothering him. Well, after weeks of studying the man, she had learned how to spot the signs, however subtle. She also knew he had gone to Caemlyn earlier that day. "Did something happen with… the Lord Dragon?" She really had to stop calling him Rand all the bloody time.

"Nothing that concerns you," he replied crisply. Idly turning his goblet in his hands, he went on in a milder tone. "When I first arrived here, I asked you why al'Thor put you in charge. You never answered. Was it some sort of punishment? What did you do?"

"He needed someone he could trust to oversee the whole venture. It wasn't a punishment. I asked to be sent here."

His eyes widened slightly. "Why in the Pit of Doom would you do that?" She gave him a small shrug in answer and he snorted. "You're here because you feel sorry for them, aren't you? For _us_. You pity us. Or you'd probably call it compassion, not pity," he said, his dark eyes flashing with contempt. "Such a typically female sentiment," he went on with a sneer.

She met his eyes steadily. "My father had the spark," she told him quietly, "although I didn't know it at the time. When we were little, my brother and I, he used to do these little magic tricks, as he called them, and he would say that it was our secret, that we shouldn't tell anyone about them, not even our mum. He would summon those little colourful flames or make objects move at a distance," she went on in a low voice. "Then one morning, I went out to carry out my morning chores when I heard a scream from the house. It lasted only a few seconds, but by the time I came back from the sheep pen, all that was left of the house were charred remains. It had burned down in flames so hot that everything inside had been obliterated in an instant. Everything and everyone," she added softly.

He stared at her for a long time, his face stony. "I'm sorry," he muttered eventually, looking away.

"While we're on the topic," she went on, "would it be alright for me to study some of the men? For signs of madness, I mean."

He frowned at her, obviously confused. "What do you mean, study them?"

"I'm good with Healing. I just thought that if I could–"

"You can channel?" he asked sharply, his eyes glittering dangerously.

That brought her up short. She sat there gaping for a second before gathering her wits. "Of course I can channel. Didn't Rand tell you? Well, obviously he didn't," she answered her own question hastily as his scowl deepened. "Mazrim, I'm sorry," she told him earnestly, "I really thought you knew. It never occurred to me that you didn't. I didn't hide the fact on purpose or anything." Light, what had Rand been thinking? This was a man who had been captured by the Red Ajah and almost gentled. The least he could have done would have been to warn him. It had seemed so self-evident to her.

"So you're an Aes Sedai," he said bitterly. Then he cursed, something she had never heard him do before. She made a mental note of the curses he used; some were very colourful indeed. Those Saldaeans certainly knew what they were about.

When he was done she shook her head slightly. "I'm not an Aes Sedai. I have absolutely no association with them. I'm a self-taught wilder. Not unlike you, in fact," she told him in a placating tone. "Rand and I are from the same village," she went on. She might as well disclose that fact as well. Who knew what else the bloody man had left out?

He studied her for a long time, considering. His hand gripped the goblet so hard that his knuckles were white with the pressure. She was surprised that he hadn't crushed it yet. Or thrown it in her face. "Is there anything else you might have… omitted… to tell me?" he asked her wryly.

"I don't think so. But to be fair, I don't _owe_ you anything. I don't know anything about you either, so I don't see why you should know everything about me," she replied in the same tone.

"Yet we agreed that I would be in charge of the men and all that pertains to channeling. We didn't specify what kind of channeling," he told her quietly.

She snorted. "If you think you can order me about like the rest of them, you're in for a surprise," she said with a sneer.

"Maybe not," he admitted flatly. "However, it is in my power to reject your proposition, as it concerns the men," he told her with a slight twitch of his mouth.

"Fine," she said irritably, standing up. "Let them all go mad, then. But don't expect me to raise a hand to help when they do," she told him fiercely. She stalked out of the room without looking back.


	30. Beware the storm that gathers here

Rand made another appearance a few days later.

There were now one hundred and four students at the school, about half as many women and thirty-six children. Saeric, the Red Water Goshien Rand had sent their way a few days earlier, was teaching the men some hand-to-hand combat forms, despite his grey hair and missing right hand. Neya and the Aiel alternated their lessons between the different groups of students, of which there were four at present, with the men divided according to the rapidity with which they progressed as well as their potential strength in the Power. The latest development, a whim on Mazrim's part, had been to provide each of the channelers with a black coat to mark them as students of what they were now ironically calling the Black Tower. Often as not, Mazrim now left the recruiting to the most seasoned students, Damer and Jur among them. As a result, the Saldaean spent more time giving lessons to the most promising pupils.

Despite Mazrim's refusal that she examined the men for early signs of madness and a potential Healing method to counter it, she had opened up to Damer about it. The former soldier had been enthusiastic about the idea and started to slip the word to some of the men he knew would keep their mouths shut around the others. Among them were Arlen Nalaam, a copper-skinned Domani just short of his thirtieth year, and a man going simply by Naeff, a tall, lean Andoran in his early forties. Damer himself agreed to be Delved first. They didn't have much time to experiment, however, and they had to be careful. But even so, during their third session, Neya managed to identify the projection of the madness inside the men's brains. It looked like a dark, intricate spider's web. Naeff's seemed to have spread the most, while Damer's only consisted of a small dark patch. Arlen's appeared to be somewhat in between and concentrated in one specific part.

It seemed that age or strength in the Power didn't have anything to do with the presence of the taint's contamination or its gravity. On top of that, she had been studying all the books she could find on the brain, its different 'parts' and their functions. She noted that the webs affected different parts of the brain, which resulted in varying manifestations of the madness. Arlen, for example, sometimes switched his speech to a different language, one nobody recognised. It might not have been an actual language at all. He was never aware of these lapses and claimed that he heard the words in the Common Tongue. When Neya succeeded in localising the projection of madness in his brain, it was lodged in his temporal lobe, the part of the brain associated with speech and auditory stimuli.

Despite her discoveries, she hadn't yet dared try to alter the webs in any way, let alone remove them. She was afraid she would make a mistake, something that she couldn't afford since she was operating directly on the brain.

Rand arrived early in the morning, but everyone was already hard at work. He was greeted by Peral Torval, a middle-aged Taraboner who apparently said something he shouldn't have, because Mazrim knocked him out cold with what had to be a weave of _saidin_. After a few words shared with Mazrim, Rand made his way to the block the Saldaean used to make announcements. Everyone gathered to hear him, women and children included. As usual, Ilawen and Karys huddled around Neya.

The Dragon Reborn addressed the assembled crowd like someone unaccustomed to making speeches. He began by warning them that the White Tower had split, just like the rumours claimed. He informed the students that he had decided to call them _asha'man_ , a word borrowed from the Old Tongue that translated literally as either 'guardian' or 'defender'. Furthermore, he had established ranks that more or less amounted to those used by the Aes Sedai. Every new recruit would now begin as a Soldier and be raised to the second rank, Dedicated, if they possessed the required level of skill. The Dedicated would be awarded a silver pin shaped as a sword, to be worn on the left side of their collars. The highest rank achievable, Asha'man, would be granted to the most advanced students and would earn them another pin representing a red and gold dragon that would be placed on the right side of their collars. Neya had to bite back laughter when she saw Mazrim's face as he was grandly awarded both pins. The man seemed ready to murder Rand where he stood.

There were no cheers as Rand concluded with some inspiring words on the battles to come. Mazrim sent everyone back to their lessons and chores as soon as Rand descended from the small platform and gestured for the older man to join him in the main house for a chat. She would have given much to hear _that_ conversation, but knew better than to intrude, especially with the Saldaean in such a foul mood.

She went to check on Peral instead. He lay pale-faced on his cot in one of the tents. She asked him if he wanted her to Heal him and he informed her with a condescending sneer that Mazrim had forbidden Healing to be performed on him. The men held Mazrim in high respect and were painfully aware of the cost of disobeying him, so she didn't insist and left him to nurse his headache. She found some of Mazrim's methods of discipline questionable, to say the least, but he seemed to know what he was doing. The men never went too far from fear of punishment and brawls were always broken before anyone could get seriously injured, when they not averted altogether.

That evening, during their daily meeting, she asked Mazrim if Rand had given any noteworthy news, besides what he had already disclosed in his speech. "Not much of interest," he told her with a small shrug. "He's not worried about the Aes Sedai, which I find troubling, although there's nothing I can do about it." He seemed to consider whether to share the next piece of information. "I think he's going mad already," he said eventually, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Neya swallowed. "That's… disturbing. Not surprising, but certainly alarming," she murmured. "Unfortunately, there is little anyone can do to prevent it from happening," she went on casually, idly fingering the edge of her goblet.

Mazrim settled his dark eyes on her. "Do you seriously think I don't know what you're doing behind my back, your little experiments with Flinn and the others?" he asked her coolly.

"Always, you underestimate me. I make no such mistake regarding you," she told him with a crooked smile. "Of course you would know. I expect nothing less from you. I also know that you would have put an end to it if you truly disapproved," she went on matter-of-factly. "Though how you expected me to think Atal had come on his own initiative remains a complete mystery to me," she added with a wry chuckle.

He shrugged dismissively. "Have you learned anything that he might not have told me about?" he asked her offhandedly.

"We've learned a lot, but I'm afraid no breakthrough has been made so far," she replied carefully. "I don't dare pry further into their brains unless I'm absolutely certain of the proper method to apply. Damage to the brain is hard to recover from," she said with a faint grimace. "I've been trying to explain to Damer how to Delve the others properly, but it's tricky, what with us being unable to see each other's weaves."

Mazrim studied her for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Well, you might as well keep at it. Who knows? Perhaps you will actually stumble upon the answer. Besides," he went on, "I've watched you stitch back together an arm on a man's shoulder. If you can't figure it out, nobody can," he said simply. Neya felt her cheeks heat up slightly at the compliment.

Silence fell for a moment. "Rand said nothing else? About what he's doing, what he's going to do?" she asked eventually.

"As I said, he told me nothing of import," he said, somewhat irritably. "You know, he's more likely to share these things with you than with me. Why didn't he speak with you?"

"Maybe because he trusts me completely and doesn't feel the need to check on me every time he shows up?"

He snorted and remained silent for a time. "Have you had dinner yet?" he asked suddenly.

"No, not yet. I was busy having a secret gathering," she said wryly.

"I'll have Grady bring us something," he said, already walking to the door. She stared after him. Had _he_ gone mad?

Sora came soon afterward, bearing two plates of roast mutton and mashed potatoes with gravy. Jur's wife kept her eyes on the floor and never said a word. She scurried out right after placing the plates in front of them.

They talked about Neya's experiments a little longer before moving on to Mazrim's previous encounters with men who could channel. He had found five such men in the years before he declared himself the Dragon Reborn. Four of them had gotten cold feet after he tested them, but the last one, Yerekhan Brazir, wanted to be taught. Mazrim took him under his wing and, together, they'd travelled along the Borderlands for two years, fighting Trollocs and other Shadowspawn creatures and devising new weaves to destroy them. Brazir was quite strong, if not quite as powerful as Mazrim himself, but during the last few weeks, it became apparent that the taint had affected the other man. He would sometimes burst into inexplicable fits of laughter or get angry without reason. Then one day, out of the blue, he got up in the middle of the night and tried to stick a knife in Mazrim's heart. Fortunately, Mazrim was a light sleeper and woke up as the man was bending over him. He seized him with the Power and tied him with weaves of Air. Brazir had demanded to be released, then had suddenly burst into tears, which were quickly followed by a hysterical cackle. Mazrim had done the only thing he could think of: he had killed the other man.

"How did you do it?" Neya asked him quietly.

"Slipped some poison into his wine. Asping rot," he answered flatly.

She was familiar with that herb; Egwene had taught her some of the things that Nynaeve had passed on to her as Wisdom. "Is that what you intend to do to them here, when they go mad? Provided I can't find a way to Heal them, of course," she added almost to herself.

His dark eyes flashed in sudden anger. "Yes, it is exactly what I intend to do. What else would you have me do?" he asked, his voice tight with fury.

She raised her hands in a placating gesture. "There's no need to get so defensive, I was just wondering. It was not a reproach. The Light knows, a quick, painless death would be a mercy," she whispered.

He seemed to regain his composure, his anger fading as quickly as it had flared. "A mercy," he murmured in agreement. Not for the first time, Neya wondered if the man was aware of his own shifting moods.

* * *

The next day, Mazrim announced that they would build a wall around the Black Tower. The Saldaean seemed nervous about the increasing number of Aes Sedai assembling in Caemlyn and she could hardly blame him, considering his history with the White Tower. He reluctantly distributed the pins Rand had provided the previous day after making his announcement. Expectedly, Damer was the first to be awarded the silver sword pin along with a few others, including Atal and Peral. At this rate, Rand would have to provide more badges soon. Neya judged that most of the newly raised Dedicated would make it to the next level in a matter of months, if not weeks.

Their numbers kept growing, until they had to start building barracks to accommodate everyone; the tents were already crammed, as well as the house and barn. The farmyard quickly grew into a small hamlet. Mazrim even had some of the men build him his own house. 'A leader cannot mingle among his subordinates,' he told her pompously. 'He must set himself apart from his charges.' Neya gave him a shrug and remained in her own room in the original building. It was incredible how fast the men were learning; it had taken them only three days to build Mazrim's house. He had them working on extensions already. The man certainly did think highly of himself. At this rate, he would be living in a palace by the end of the year.

Neya kept her experiments going for a week longer, although most of the volunteers had been raised to Dedicated and were therefore increasingly occupied, but soon there was not much more to learn. The next step would be to actually develop a method to remove the black webs of madness, or try to, but she still couldn't bring herself to do it. With Damer's disappointed assent and later, Mazrim's falsely detached shrug, she put an end to it herself. Maybe Neya would get back to it when an opportunity presented itself; when, for example, one of the students had a sudden outburst of madness that required immediate attention and on which she would have no choice but to act, provided that it wasn't too late by then.

They welcomed over two hundred new Soldiers in the next month, as summer lingered impossibly into what should have been early winter. As expected, many of the earlier recruits were soon raised to Dedicated, Jahar among them. The men all seemed slightly awed by the youth's incredible strength, even though he still was no match for Mazrim. Of course, Jahar wasn't the only gifted student, far from it. Manel Rochaid and Charl Gedwyn were not far behind, and even Atal was said to have become as strong as Damer. Those three, among others, were soon given the dragon pin, although for some reason, Mazrim told her that Damer wasn't ready for it yet.

There were now fifteen Asha'man and four times as many Dedicated. Rand's army of doomed men was growing larger by the day.


	31. Resistance is futile

They started meeting in the study of Mazrim's new house after it was properly arranged. They had begun to take their meals together in the evening, at the same time as they reviewed the day's activities. She had been sure he would make advances to her at some point; it seemed inevitable to her that he would, although she couldn't have said why, exactly. It was just that, after their first dinner together, she had felt a connection between them that hadn't been there before.

But every night, he stood up to walk her to the door, which he gallantly held open for her, and bid her good night in a perfunctory manner. She wondered if she should say or do something; men were known to be oblivious to such things. But not Mazrim. Nothing seemed to escape the man's notice. Maybe he simply didn't return the feeling. She had been wrong about these things before. In any case, she told herself firmly, she would not make the first move. That would be improper.

At Neya's suggestion, Mazrim had reluctantly agreed to give everyone some time off during First Day. No lessons would be given that day and chores would be kept to what was strictly necessary. There would even be a small feast at noon. Usually, at this time of year, they would have had to huddle inside the buildings but, given the mysteriously warm weather, they settled for a picnic.

They never got around to it, however.

Everything was set: tablecloths had been spread all over the clearing, food was spilling from baskets and there were large quantities of wine. Some men had even dug out musical instruments and were playing an assortment of lutes and pipes and even a tambourine or two. Everyone was laughing and joking, and the children were playing around in the field delightedly. It would have been an amazing day.

Instead, Mazrim came back in a hurry from Cairhien before anyone could settle down and assembled all the Asha'man, Dedicated and Soldiers he thought were ready for battle, about two hundreds of them. He told her to keep watch on the rest, but she retorted that, wherever they were going, she was going with them. He opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it. Moments later, they left for a place called Dumai's Wells.

* * *

They marched into chaos. There were Aiel attacking Aiel, some of them wearing strips of red cloth around their arms; men wearing different kinds of armour; channelers, both Wise Ones and Aes Sedai; and, incredibly, wolves. In the confusion, it was hard to tell friend from foe but, thankfully, Mazrim seemed to know exactly which was which.

She would not kill unless she had to, that much she vowed. Whatever her abilities with the sword, she was a Healer at heart. But she would make sure her men were safe. She kept close to them, raising shields of Air around them to avoid the cracking lightning bolts and sizzling fireballs that flew overhead. Damer and Atal formed a protective guard to either side of her, all the while throwing invisible weaves of _saidin_ at various targets. It wasn't pretty. Following Rand's orders, Mazrim had turned his students into deadly weapons. Aiel seemed to literally explode around them, sending bits and parts flying everywhere. The ground was slick with blood and mud.

She followed Mazrim through the clusters of fighters, with Damer and Atal still at her side, until they reached a circle of wagons. They found Rand there, a slender woman clinging to his arm. Charl had reached the camp before them and seemed to be considering whether to attack the Dragon Reborn. What was the Asha'man doing? An instant later, Mazrim stepped beside him and began to inform Rand of the situation. She saw Rand recoil from the Saldaean at one point. Soon after, Damer told her that a protective dome made of _saidin_ had been placed above the campsite.

Neya remained close to the men but turned her attention to the other people around them. The inside of the dome appeared to be secure, with Dedicated and a few Soldiers gathered around women who had to be Aes Sedai, given their ageless faces. Were they fighting against Aes Sedai now? This battle made less and less sense to her. Mazrim hadn't bothered to explain what was going on before dragging them here.

As for the other side of the dome, it was hard to tell exactly what was happening. Aiel who didn't wear the red band were pushing against the invisible barrier, obviously trying to get to Rand. They must be the enemy, then; Shaido, most likely. Bolts of lightning still flashed in the clear sky.

When she looked back to where Mazrim stood, she glimpsed a broad-shouldered young man with curly brown hair speaking urgently to Rand. _Wait a minute_ , she thought, frowning. _Isn't that–_

"Perrin?" she finished her own thought in an incredulous whisper. The large man turned his head in her direction, although he couldn't possibly have heard her over the commotion. She saw his eyes widen in astonishment, his mouth dropping open. It _was_ Perrin. She was quite certain of that, although the Perrin she remembered didn't have bright yellow eyes. He took a few wavering steps toward her and hugged her so tightly that she heard her ribs creak ominously.

"It might be a good idea to keep the effusions for a more appropriate time," she heard Mazrim mutter to her left.

Perrin released her slowly and gave her a good look, concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?"

She nodded hastily, grinning up at him. "Yeah, fine. You look a lot worse than I do, actually," she told him. He barked a short, mirthless laugh before Rand brought everyone's attention back to the matter at hand.

Apparently, Perrin wanted to dissipate the dome to rescue the Two Rivers men who were caught on the other side, still engaged against the Shaido. Two Rivers men? Fighting Aiel? This was becoming more bizarre by the minute. After a moment, Rand agreed that they would remove the dome, but he wanted the Asha'man to disperse the Shaido. To break them.

Mazrim was always a bit rigid, but he now stood so stiffly that she wondered if Rand had used weaves of _saidin_ to hold him in place. After a brief hesitation, he began ordering the men about. The dome was raised, and the bloody massacre that ensued made even her swallow a little bile. She was used to wounds of all sorts, but this was something else entirely.

The Shaido turned to run as their fellows were transformed into minced meat, but the Asha'man launched devastating weaves of Earth and Fire after them. Finally, Rand yelled for Mazrim to put an end to the carnage. The Saldaean's face was stony; his dark eyes looked almost dead. The girl who clung to Rand was weeping inconsolably and most of the Aes Sedai, who had been uneasy enough when the Asha'man simply stood there, now looked about ready to faint or sicken up. In fact, several of them already had.

Most of the Asha'man managed to remain impassive, although Eben's face was ashen and Fedwin was wobbling on his feet. Charl was smiling smugly at the departing Shaido. Damer and Perrin were both staring at Neya, obviously concerned. Abruptly, she realized that she was weeping. She hadn't even noticed. _So much for poise_ , she thought dejectedly.

After the cacophony of the battle, the sudden silence was almost eerie. Rand broke it to congratulate – congratulate! – the Asha'man and Mazrim for their… performance, which generated quite a lot of cheers from the men. When he turned around, nine Aes Sedai had made their way toward him. Before Neya knew what was going on, the Aes Sedai were kneeling in front of the Dragon Reborn and pledging themselves to him.

* * *

She spent the next few hours Healing everyone she could, with Damer at her side. By nightfall, she was so exhausted she could barely move. Damer had retired two hours ago; considering the amount of energy he'd used during the battle, it was a wonder he'd lasted so long. Mazrim had to literally drag her to one of the tents the Asha'man had set up on one side of the camp. There were just so many wounded and it tore her heart apart to leave them bleeding, or worse. Of course, she had first asked if any Asha'man required her attention after the battle was done, but she was told that none of them needed Healing. She had thought it to mean that none of them were hurt.

As they made their way toward their part of the camp, Mazrim walking stiffly at her side, half-supporting her, she noticed nine bodies lying on one side, all covered with a black cloth. Before Mazrim could catch her, she was stumbling toward them. Most of them were Soldiers, new recruits she hadn't known for a very long time. The last one was Memec. She crouched beside him for a moment. Although he'd been one of the first to arrive, they hadn't been very close, but she couldn't begin to imagine what she would say to Ilawen and Karys. Light, what a bloody mess.

Mazrim crouched beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. He whispered something her exhausted mind didn't register. She got up on her feet once more, clutching his arm to steady herself. The look of concern on his face was so unusual that she almost didn't recognise it for what it was. She attempted a smile to let him know she was alright, but she only managed a faint twitch of her mouth, not unlike his own crooked almost-smile. He led her away from the bodies, to the far end of the camp, until they reached the largest tent. He even asked her if she needed help to get into bed, which would have made her giggle wildly in other circumstances. Instead she just shook her head and he left her there to attend to other matters. Idly, she wondered if it was his own tent or if he'd had one set up for her. She fell on the cot and drifted off to sleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

She woke up in the middle of the night. A flickering flame gave off a faint light, just enough for her to see Mazrim sitting behind a makeshift desk and studying some papers. Why was the man still awake, after everything they'd been through? Or maybe that was exactly why he couldn't sleep. The Light knew, if not for her body's exhausted demands that she lay down, she would have likely fought sleep to avoid the nightmares she was sure would trouble her. Luckily, her rest had been unperturbed by dreams of any sort. Her mind had been too tired to even come up with something to entertain her while she slept.

She got up and approached him as quietly as she could but he spoke before she'd gone three steps. "You should rest some more. It's only been three hours," he told her without turning.

"If I needed more sleep, I wouldn't have woken up," she replied matter-of-factly. He snorted. "Why aren't _you_ sleeping?"

"My cot was taken," he answered dryly.

"Well, it's vacant now," she told him. "You should get some rest, too." He shrugged, not bothering to reply, his eyes never leaving the documents in front of him. Without thinking, she laid her hands on his shoulders and started to massage them. _So much for not making the first move_ , she thought wryly. In light of recent events, she realised she didn't care if it wasn't proper or not. They could all be dead tomorrow. What point was there in being proper?

She felt him tense, but it lasted only half a second. Oddly, he didn't say anything. She had expected a sarcastic comment, at the very least. Maybe he was stunned by her presumptuousness. After a moment, however, he seemed to relax, and even reclined backward slightly. Neither of them spoke as she went on, trying to unknot the taunt muscles in his shoulders and upper arms. It was no small feat.

Some time later, she became aware that he was shaking slightly under her hands. Again, she acted without considering what she was doing. She let her arms slide down his chest and hugged him comfortingly, her face resting in the crook of his neck. Again, he remained silent. The quiver receded after a while, but she didn't move, and neither did he, not for a long time.

Eventually he raised his arms to remove hers, gently lifting them away from his chest. He stood up and moved around the chair to place himself in front of her, just like the day she'd met him. He loomed above her, face intent, his dark eyes boring into hers. And then he kissed her.

It was an unexpectedly soft and hesitant kiss, almost as if he'd never kissed anyone before, or forgotten how. He drew back much earlier than she would have liked, leaving her breathless and a little frustrated. His face had taken on a dark cast.

"I'm sorry. Momentary lapse. I shouldn't have done that," he whispered gravely, not meeting her eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" she said uncertainly. He had to be joking. She'd been waiting for this for weeks! Admittedly, the time and place were not the most adequate, but still…

"I shouldn't have done that," he repeated softly. "This is wrong. I'll let you rest," he went on with an air of determination.

He started to move around her, but she placed a hand firmly on his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked in a dangerously soft voice.

"Neya, we can't do this. You of all people should know that. I thought we had a sort of silent agreement," he said with what sounded suspiciously like desperation.

"Well, that's the thing with silent agreements. You never really know what you've agreed to, or even if the other person is aware of it," she told him dryly. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?" she asked roughly. "Give me one good reason," she added before he could argue. "And if you tell me you're going to die, think twice."

"Isn't that a good enough reason?" he asked with a sneer, bitterness twisting his features. "How about 'I will go insane and destroy everyone around me'?" he went on sarcastically.

"Everyone dies eventually. Sooner rather than later, these days. And I _will_ find a way to remove the taint's corruption. I will do it if it's the last thing I do," she said fiercely.

He let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "And I suppose you will chase down the remaining Forsaken and defeat the Dark One while you're at it?"

She slapped him. He blinked at her in surprise, reflexively raising a hand to his cheek. "Don't be like that. I know it's your go-to coping mechanism, but spare me. Not after today," she said angrily. Then she kissed him again, pulling at the lapels of his coat to make him bend toward her. He tried to push her away, but she would not budge. She had waited long enough.


	32. An offer you can't refuse

He awoke at dawn, as he always did. On those few nights when he actually slept, anyway. Neya was there, her back to him. He'd fallen asleep with an arm around her, holding her close to him. She smelled of blood and mud and perspiration. She hadn't bothered to wash up last night, or maybe she simply hadn't had the strength. She had been exhausted after Healing everyone she could lay her hands on, so tired he'd had to half-carry her to his tent. Fool woman. She could have burned herself out, channeling so much.

He couldn't believe what had happened. After twelve years of carefully avoiding women, and any sort of emotional or physical attachment, for that matter, it had taken only a kiss and a word from her to get him into bed. _Fool man_ , he thought bitterly. _You're pathetic_. What was he going to do now? She wouldn't settle for this; she would want more. He had nothing more to give her.

Light, what was he supposed to _do_? With everything that was going on now, it couldn't have come at a worst time. He had made sure not to get too close to the other men, not to attach himself to them. He had to remain distant, for their sake if not his own. Who knew what Moridin or Demandred would make of this? They had both made threats to come after his friends and family if he didn't obey their every word. That had been almost comforting, since he had neither. And if there was no one for them to coerce him with, that meant he had leverage, no matter how tenuous. Of course, they could still decide to Turn him to the Shadow against his will. That had been the real threat, although neither Forsaken appeared to be particularly fond of the process.

It had been clear for a few weeks now that Neya thought of him in a different way than she had before. He'd felt it too, he couldn't deny it. He'd simply assumed that she would put these thoughts aside for the sake of – if nothing else – common sense. He had really thought she would. Considering what happened to her father, she should have been more aware than anyone of the dangers of being around men who could channel.

Not that he was mad, or would ever be. The Dark One's protection insured he couldn't be touched by the taint. But that was exactly the problem: he was a Darkfriend, no matter how much he hated it. He had sworn an oath, an oath he could never take back. After Ishamael had forced it out of him, he had hoped the Forsaken would simply forget about him and leave him be. Hope had deserted him a long time ago, however. It was a luxury he couldn't afford.

He had discovered his ability to channel soon after his twenty-first birthday. It had come as a shock, of course, but Borderlanders were practical people, and he was more practical than most. Kissing his mother goodbye, he made his way to World's End, a day's ride away from home, and stood on the edge of the sheer cliff overlooking the ocean. He had stood there for hours, but in the end, he couldn't do it. He was weak, too weak. A fine Borderlander he was.

Weak men were known to drown their sorrows in drink and bury them in the flesh of loose women; after all, if he was going to lose his sanity and, eventually, his life, he might as well enjoy himself while he could. For months he went from one tavern to the next, each one dingier than the last, stopping at every brothel on the way. He drank from sunrise to sunset and lay with every person who would have him, and they were numerous.

Until that one night, near the border between Arafel and Kandor, when the woman he had set his sights on for the evening told him that she'd run out of heartleaf tea. She added with a coy smile that she didn't mind if he didn't, already shedding her clothes as she said it. That brought him up short. He hadn't thought about the possibility before, about what all of this… frantic fornicating… might entail. And what it entailed was this: how many children may he have already unknowingly begotten, how many children that would grow up without a father? All of a sudden, he realised how thoroughly he had messed up. It wasn't just about him. Men who could channel were a danger to their families, their friends, everyone they knew. That had marked the end of his senseless spree.

He left the next morning at dawn and travelled all the way back to World's End, stopping by his home on the way. His mother had died two months ago, the new occupant explained in a chagrined voice. They had tried to locate him, searching several villages around, but couldn't find him anywhere. Something had had to be done about the body, eventually. In the end, they had cremated it, as was customary in Saldaea.

Later that day, as he reached World's End, he came closer to jumping off the edge of the cliff than he ever had. He was truly alone in the world, and this was the right thing to do. He knew that, but he still couldn't bring himself to take that one, final step into oblivion.

Cursing himself for a coward, he had turned north this time, to the Blight. If he couldn't take his own life, maybe a benevolent Myrdraal would take it for him. Instead, his survival instinct kicked in and he'd found himself repelling waves of Shadowspawn, weaving countless threads of Fire and Earth to destroy the beasts. Out there in the Blight, alone, he taught himself to channel, and to survive.

A few weeks later, Ishamael approached him.

Mazrim had been keeping to himself since coming here, hiding from the few people that occasionally showed up in this Light-forsaken place. A fitting place to encounter the man who had made the world tremble with fear three thousand years ago. He was quite tall, taller than Mazrim, and the only thing you remembered about his face was that his eyes and mouth were pits of raging fire. He came in the dark of night, while Mazrim was experimenting with a new weave to extend the reach of the ward he'd set around his small camp. The man walked straight through the ward without setting it off and approached Mazrim from behind. There was no telling how long he'd been standing there before he finally spoke.

"You will need a much more powerful ward to keep the truly dangerous individuals away," he said, causing Mazrim to jerk around so violently he almost twisted his neck. He was standing in the shadows, his eyes emitting a light comparable to that of Mazrim's cook fire. At first, he thought he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming, but the man suddenly moved closer to the fire and crouched in front of it. Before Mazrim could say anything, the apparition continued to speak. "I am Ishamael," he introduced himself as blandly as if discussing the weather. "Mazrim Taim, you are now under my supervision," he went on matter-of-factly.

It had taken Mazrim a moment to collect his thoughts. "The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul," he finally managed to whisper. What else could he say? This couldn't be happening. Had the madness taken him already?

Ishamael had laughed then, a mad cackle that made him look like he was about to breathe fire out of his mouth, like the dragons of legend. "Not now, not ever," he said conversationally. "Not me." His laughter abated abruptly as he fixed Mazrim with his fiery eyes. "You are strong. You have potential. The Great Lord of the Dark can give you power and privilege beyond your imaginings, if you but agree to serve him," he said. "I strongly suggest you do. Failure to do so would be most… unpleasant."

"How unpleasant, exactly?" Mazrim blurted out without thinking. "Because I'm fairly certain I'd rather die than serve you. Or the Dark One," he added forcefully, with more bravado than he felt.

The taller man laughed again, but this time it came out as a dry, mirthless snigger. "If you refuse to bend, you will be bent. There are… methods… to achieve such results. I am not keen on applying them unnecessarily, however. Better for you to come willingly," he said with a sour twist of his mouth. "Turning unwilling individuals to the Shadow is a painful process, crude and time-consuming. If you force my hand, you will find I can make it even more agonising than is strictly necessary," he continued dispassionately. "The simpler method consists in threatening the lives of the people you care about, but it appears you've exhausted your supplies." Mazrim looked up sharply at that. The man chuckled once more, waving a hand dismissively. "I had nothing to do with your mother's untimely demise. Indeed, it would have been in my best interest to have her at my disposal, alive and hale. But no such luck," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"How long have you been following me?" Mazrim asked in a tight voice.

"Long enough," the Forsaken replied sweetly, "to know that you will come to your senses and spare yourself needless torment." So the man had also witnessed Mazrim's failed attempts to end his own life. He knew him for a coward. Much as it would satisfy Mazrim to prove him wrong, he already knew what his answer would be. Better to serve, no matter how unwillingly, than to have the ability to choose for himself removed altogether. He nodded eventually, causing Ishamael to grin like a maniac. He swore an oath and, for his betrayal of every principle he had ever held to, he was rewarded with the Dark One's protection. He would not go mad after all.


	33. To love is to be vulnerable

He met several people in the years that followed, people who had come seeking glory – or, often as not, death – in the Blight. Some of them fled when they realised he could channel, expectedly, but those were surprisingly few. The others simply gathered around him and, together, they formed a small band.

It disconcerted him at first that these people would follow him anywhere, let alone put him in charge of their little group, but he quickly discovered that he had a natural capacity for leadership. The men regarded him with respect, despite his ability to channel.

After some time, he finally learned to identify the ability to channel in other men. Most of them, upon learning that they were indeed able to wield _saidin_ , or learn to, had simply deserted the band. He didn't blame them. Let them succeed where he had failed. Then Brazir agreed to be taught, and that changed everything.

Yerekhan Brazir was a gangly youth of eighteen when he first joined their little clique. The younger son of a wealthy noble, with seven older brothers, it was clear that there would be no place of honour for him in the family. So he set out to find his own path, to make a new name for himself in the Blight. To hear him talk, you would have thought he was Artur Hawkwing reborn. When Mazrim announced that he had the spark, expecting the boy to run back to his father, the boy had instead looked fervently excited and demanded that Mazrim teach him.

Over the next two years, as their band grew in numbers, he taught the boy everything he'd figured out so far and, when that knowledge ran out, they began experimenting with new weaves. Brazir was strong, but even when he reached his maximal strength, he was no match for Mazrim. It was then that Mazrim truly realised exactly how powerful he himself was. Shortly afterward, the man had gone insane.

There were warning signs, of course. Brazir had been subject to mood swings for months and Mazrim had become increasingly certain that the man wouldn't last much longer. No matter how prepared he was, it had still come as a shock, to witness the ultimate transformation. He woke up to find Brazir crouching over him, a dagger in his hand and a gleeful smile on his youthful face. Mazrim hadn't hesitated. The boy was securely bound before anyone was even aware of the incident. It had taken Brazir a few hours to calm down, though Mazrim suspected he'd only stopped his constant ranting and mad laughter because fatigue had taken over. A few leaves of asping rot had done the trick; a quick, peaceful death. A mercy. The boy he'd known had already been long gone in any case.

Brazir was the first person he ever killed. He still remembered it as clearly as if it was yesterday, with painful accuracy. The ones who came later all left a stain on his soul, but it was Brazir who haunted his dreams, even years later.

It's also in those days when news of Logain, the False Dragon from Ghealdan, reached them. He had never considered it and probably wouldn't have if no one had mentioned it, but the men were adamant: this Logain fellow couldn't possibly be the Dragon Reborn. If the Creator had any sense, he would appoint a Borderlander as his champion for the Last Battle, not some soft southlander. Besides, Mazrim was powerful; they had witnessed the devastation his channeling could bring, sometimes destroying scores of Trollocs by himself. If anyone was the Dragon Reborn, it had to be him.

And, eventually, he had seen the sense in their words. The fact that he hadn't been born on Dragonmount was really just a detail, something the history books would easily work around. All in all, it didn't take very long to convince him. Maybe he had known all along and hadn't dared admit it to himself, but that time was over. He would accept his fate. No more weakness, no more cowardice. He was the Dragon Reborn, and he had a battle to fight.

He set to gather an army, which turned out to be much easier than he had anticipated. Soon, he had scores of men at his back, each one ready to follow him into the Pit of Doom, should he require it of them. They marched across Saldaea, and when people refused to acknowledge him for who he truly was, his loyal followers brought them down on their knees and made them bow to him. The Queen sent troops against them, but they were invincible. They had the Light itself on their side. It was simple, really: all he had to do was accomplish one, only one, of the Prophecies. He would seize the Stone of Tear and the world would know who he was, and tremble at the sight of him.

But of course the witches had to take part, didn't they? Soon the Red Ajah was on their tracks, hounding them down. Battles were fought, every last one of which he won, easily. Until that cursed apparition took over the sky in Irinjavar and he was thrown off his horse. The Creator had indeed chosen a champion, but it wasn't Mazrim after all. He surrendered placidly, urging his followers to do the same. There was no need for more people to die for no reason. Many of his soldiers fled or hid; the witches had captured their prize and wouldn't bother with the rest of them.

And then one night, as he was trying his best not to contemplate what would happen once they reached Tar Valon, someone materialised in his tent. The man simply stepped out from an opening in the air. A tall man, fair-skinned and powerful-looking, with a hooked nose and dark hair. Mazrim assumed he would be considered handsome.

For a long moment, as Mazrim gaped at him quite stupidly, the other man studied him with intense dark eyes. "Mazrim Taim," he said in a deep, soft voice, "do you remember your oath?" Of course he did. He had not, however, given it much thought since Ishamael appeared to him, all these years ago. How easy it was to forget such things when no one was there to remind you of them. Mazrim nodded reluctantly. "You are to be released from the care of those so-called Aes Sedai and assigned a mission," the man went on matter-of-factly. "You will be given further instructions after your escape. Do not expect me to help you fight your way out of this place, however. I will remove the guards, but the rest is up to you."

"That's all well and good but–" Mazrim cut off when he realised the man was already gone. An instant later, he felt the shield that held him off from _saidin_ being removed, like a string snapping. Without a thought, he seized the Source. He was so relieved he let out a small, near-hysterical guffaw before coming to his senses. He had to leave. It didn't matter that he had no intention of obeying the man; he had to escape while he could.

It had been surprisingly easy. To think that, if he hadn't been thrown off his horse, he would have made mincemeat of them all, those witches who thought they could cage him. He stole a horse, rode as far as he could, until the horse could go no further, then he ran some more on his own two legs. He hid for a long time, knowing that, by now, all of Saldaea – and, likely, every other Borderlander nation – was probably on the lookout for him, not to mention the Red Ajah, and possibly the whole White Tower.

Another man found him weeks later, appearing seemingly out of thin air. Mazrim was hiding in a tiny hamlet in Murandy, posing as a refugee from the very uprising he had initiated in Saldaea. This man was as tall as Ishamael, but much younger-looking. He was handsome, or would have been, if not for a pronounced cleft in his chin.

Mazrim scrambled to his feet and then did his best to look cool and collected and very much in control of the situation. "What–" he started to say before the man could speak, but suddenly he couldn't talk. He raised a hand to his throat and realised the man must have used a weave of Air to prevent him from talking. But why couldn't he see the weave? A second later, he realised with horror that he was cut off from the Source.

"You will not talk, Taim, you will listen. I want you to find the Dragon Reborn and gain his trust. You will follow him and report to me. _Only_ me," he emphasised imperiously, his piercing blue eyes intent. "Not to Demandred, or Graendal, or any of them. You are to give him this when you find him," he went on flatly, handing Mazrim a small object. It was black and white, in the shape of the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai of old. It seemed to be made of _cuendillar_ , except that the material would never be so brittle. "One of the seven seals to the Great Lord's prison," the man added matter-of-factly.

Mazrim stared at him incredulously for a long time. He shook his head and tried to speak, but the weave was still in place. How was he supposed to find the Dragon Reborn, let alone approach him? And what was he supposed to do when he did? He had many questions, but the man, whoever he was, refused to let him speak. "You will do as I say, Taim, and you will do it soon. Further instructions will be given once you have made contact. Remember your oath. Do not fail." On that last threat, the man vanished as abruptly as he'd appeared, leaving Mazrim alone with the seal – _a_ _seal_ , he thought almost hysterically, _to the Dark One's blasted prison_ _!_

As it turned out, locating Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, had been simple enough. The man didn't exactly go unnoticed. But how was he to approach him without raising suspicion? The answer came soon afterward, when he heard about the amnesty. Al'Thor couldn't have made it easier for him. He hadn't even needed to convince the boy – he had been shocked to see how young the supposed saviour of the world was – instead, al'Thor had offered him the perfect opportunity on a silver platter.

The only problem was the girl.

 _Neya_ , he scolded himself. _If you're going to betray her and break her heart, at least have the decency to use her name,_ he thought bitterly. He felt her move against him, but she didn't wake up. She was the only one he couldn't quite manage to push away. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how he treated her, she always came back determinedly.

Moridin – as he learned later the seemingly youthful Forsaken was called – came back several times after Mazrim's arrival at the Black Tower. He appeared satisfied with his work so far. His only order was to start recruiting likely candidates for the position of Dreadlord. 'The Last Battle is coming soon,' Moridin warned him. 'Be ready.'

Demandred, the Forsaken who had done for the witches who held Mazrim's shield during his brief captivity, had also come to take his reports, apparently unaware of Moridin's visits or orders. Despite Moridin's earlier command, he had given Demandred the same account of his activities at the Black Tower. What was he supposed to do, deny one of the Forsaken? Surely Moridin would understand if he ever found out – not that Mazrim had any intention of letting that happen.

He came close to being exposed on one occasion, when Neya came barging into his study without knocking in the middle of the night. That had been about three weeks ago, when Ronon Dent, a newly raised Dedicated, had gone mad and tried to set fire to the barn, as well as multiple other random targets. Demandred had barely had time to turn himself invisible to her. Mazrim had left the man where he was; he couldn't ignore the matter at hand, and never mind if it angered the Forsaken. When he returned to his study, Demandred was gone. That had been his last visit, although Moridin had been there only the day before, of course. It was him that ordered Mazrim to gather his men and leave forthwith for Dumai's Wells. Thankfully, Neya hadn't found it strange that Mazrim was sitting by himself at the table in the middle of the night. She knew that he slept only occasionally. It scared him a little, all the things she had been able to pick up about him since they'd met. Of course, it was only going to get worse, now.

This time, she seemed to be awakening. He felt her stretch carefully, probably to avoid waking him, and heard her sigh contentedly. "Morning," he murmured in her ear. She shivered slightly and turned to face him.

"Morning," she replied with a grin. It faded a moment later and turned into a frown. "Did you get any sleep?"

"I couldn't, you snored all night," he said wryly, lips twitching.

Her grin was back in a flash. "Yes, apparently I do that." Slowly, she raised a finger to his face, tracing the laugh line on the right corner of his mouth. "These must have come from somewhere," she whispered almost to herself. He had been a very smiling young man, until the day he'd realised what he was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled properly, let alone laughed. He shrugged lightly. What could he say? She didn't seem to expect an answer, however. A moment later, she pushed him on his back and sat astride him. Before he could do anything, however, someone called out his name from outside the tent. Al'Thor. Burn the man! Rolling his eyes, he tried to make Neya move, but she simply bent down closer to him. "Shush," she said in a low voice. "Maybe he'll go away."

"Or maybe he'll just walk in without waiting for a response," he told her with a grimace.

Again, he moved to push her away gently, but she turned her head toward the entrance of the tent. "Rand! I'm naked, don't come in!" she shouted before facing him once more, a devilish grin lighting up her face. He scowled at her, although he felt more amused than truly annoyed. She gave him an innocent look. "Well, I _am_ naked," she said, "and so are you," she told him teasingly. She kissed him deeply before finally pushing herself to her feet. Burn her, did she have to do that _now_? She was already fully clothed when he finally stood up. She eyed him ruefully as he gathered his breeches, chuckling. "I'll come back later," she promised before leaving the tent.

Al'Thor walked in a moment later, so impassive he would have made even a statue look lively. Sighing imperceptibly, Mazrim braced himself to face the Dragon Reborn.


	34. Take care of those you call your own

She felt giddy. That was the only word for it. She knew she ought to be devastated by what had happened the day before, the bloody mess, the countless wasted lives. But she just felt happy and light-hearted and incredibly _smug_. She wandered around for a while with half a mind to find Perrin. There hadn't been any time for talking the previous day and she longed for news from home. Maybe he'd heard from Mat or Egwene, too.

She realised someone had been playing the harp when the tune stopped abruptly with a discordant note. Jay was sitting cross-legged on an upturned crate, glaring at her resentfully. She walked up to him, waiting for him to erupt in anger. He didn't, however. He didn't say anything. They stood fixing each other for a while before she finally broke the silence. "It's good to see you," she said quietly. He snorted. "I'm not going to try to justify myself again. I understand why you're angry, but surely you see why I left. This is exactly the sort of things I was talking about," she said, gesturing at the whole encampment.

"And you think your new sweetheart is any safer than I was?" he asked bitterly. He sniggered as her eyes widened in surprise. "I went to your tent last night, to see how you were doing. You weren't exactly discreet, you know," he went on with a grimace.

She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. She didn't regret what had happened, far from it, but she hadn't meant for everyone to know about it. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't even know you were here."

"Where else would I be?" he asked sullenly. "I'm the Dragon Reborn's lapdog, remember?"

Clearly, he hadn't become any happier about his plight since she'd left. Which was a little odd, considering her last days in Caemlyn, before the attack on Rahvin. The former Forsaken appeared to have come to terms with his current situation, albeit grudgingly. Her departure likely had something to do with that. "I'm sorry," she repeated. What else could she say? "But why wouldn't he be safe? He's got over three hundred trained male channelers at his back. What could possibly happen?"

"Neya," he said condescendingly, "by now all the other Chosen will have their sights set on the man, if they don't effectively have him already. They won't want to waste him by removing him, should he refuse, not unless they have to, but you can be sure they'll find some way to get the Black Tower on their side before the Last Battle begins," he told her with a sneer. "Taim is doomed."

 _Well, aren't you a little ray of pitch black_ , she thought wryly. Apparently running out of encouraging remarks, Jay turned back to his harp, striking up a funereal tune. _The March of_ _Death_ , of course. His all-time favourite. Without another word, Neya left him to his melancholy play.

* * *

She found Perrin a few minutes later, talking with what she feared was a Trolloc until she realised it held a book in its platter-sized hand. An Ogier, perhaps? It had to be. She was quite sure Trollocs weren't adept at reading. She made her way toward them but, before she had taken ten steps, Perrin turned in her direction, his bright yellow eyes gazing at her. It was impressive, she had to admit. The large man greeted her with a grin despite his obvious tiredness. He introduced the Ogier as Loial, son of Arent, son of Halan. " _Kiserai ti Wansho hei_ ," she murmured formally with a small bow of her head. Both of them looked at her in astonishment and she smiled timidly. The Ogier soon made his excuses and left them to talk.

"I tried to find you yesterday," Perrin told her, "but one of the Asha'man said you were busy tending to the wounded," he said with a small frown. "Healing them, he said."

She nodded. "I was. You seemed so surprised to see me yesterday. Didn't Rand tell you where I was?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Nobody told me anything. How long has it been? That is, how long have you been… back?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

"I met Rand and Mat in Rhuidean about five months ago. Egwene was there, too. I followed them to Cairhien, fought against Rahvin's forces in Caemlyn, then I went to the Black Tower to oversee things," she filled him in quickly. She didn't feel like telling him what happened before that. "What about you? How have you been since I… left? Mat told me you'd gone back to the Two Rivers a few months ago," she said.

He nodded slowly and, not for the first time, she noticed how exhausted he looked. He seemed to have aged a decade since she'd last seen him. "Someone sent Trollocs through the Ways to attack the Two Rivers," he began, and she gave him an incredulous stare. Neither Mat nor Rand had ever mentioned that. She made a mental note to scold them when she next saw them. "There was a battle. We won," he said with a bitter twist of his mouth.

"Is everyone alright? I mean–"

He was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. "We lost many people. Too many," he muttered. "But your family is safe, Abell and Natti and the girls." Thank the Light for that.

There was something he wasn't telling her. "What about _your_ family, Perrin?" she asked softly, dreading the answer. He was shaking his head again. He didn't reply. She laid a hand on his arm; she never knew what to do or say in these circumstances. Light! Deselle and Adora, and sweet little Paet. They were so young. She couldn't believe they were gone.

Perrin took a deep breath and looked at her with a small smile. "On a lighter note, I'm married."

"You're not! How dare you get married without inviting me!" she said with mock indignation. "Congratulations," she told him more seriously. "I'm happy for you. Who's the lucky gal?" she asked curiously.

"Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara," he replied fondly.

"Bashere," Neya repeated. "Like… Davram Bashere?"

He nodded. "His daughter. Can you believe my wife is cousin to the Queen of Saldaea?" he said as if he still couldn't get his head around it. "She's amazing. You'll like her. Well, she's in Cairhien. I'll introduce you when we get there."

"I'm going back to the Black Tower, Perrin," she told him with an apologetic smile.

He scowled at her. "Why? You said you went to oversee matters there, but I thought Taim was in charge now."

"Oh, he is. We both are, really. He supervises the men, I handle the rest," she said with a shrug. "I can't leave. They wouldn't know what to do without me. They'd probably starve to death before the month was out," she said affectionately.

He told her of the changes back home and reluctantly admitted that he had been appointed Lord of the Two Rivers. Lord Perrin Goldeneyes, they called him now, although he didn't seem particularly happy about it. She longed to ask what happened to his eyes but didn't want to press him. Perrin had a tendency to draw back on himself when you were too direct with him.

They were soon joined by a slender youth dressed in brightly coloured clothes that clashed violently. Perrin introduced him simply as Aram. The young man appeared very devoted to her old friend. She bade them both goodbye a moment later. She had to check on the Asha'man and make arrangements for departure. It was unlikely that they would stay here much longer. As she passed the black-covered bodies lying nearby, she suddenly felt more exhausted than she had since the previous day, her earlier euphoria already evaporated.

* * *

They departed a few hours later, after a heated discussion as to who should have charge of the treacherous White Tower Aes Sedai, who was eventually 'won' by the Wise Ones. Mazrim looked furious, although why he wanted the women at the Black Tower was a mystery. It would only cause trouble and unnerve the men.

They arrived at the Tower around noon and, as everyone ran to their loved ones, she caught sight of Ilawen and Karys scanning the throng of men that were pouring through the gateway. _This is it_ , she thought numbly. She walked up to meet them and gathered Ilawen in her arms. She didn't even need to speak. Karys ran away to take refuge in the barn while Ilawen sobbed in Neya's arms.

The men were buried at dusk in the small patch of land that lay behind the barn, where they had first dug Siman Proctor's resting place. Fourteen graves now occupied the space. Mazrim gave a brief but surprisingly poignant eulogy and that was the end of the ceremony. Neya remained there with the girls for a while, until Ilawen began to doze off out of sheer exertion. She carried her to their room, Karys keeping close. "Will you stay with us tonight?" the older girl asked timidly.

"Sure," Neya told her. They all settled on the bed. Ilawen was already fast asleep.

"What's going to happen to us now? Is Mazrim going to throw us out?" Karys asked dejectedly. They had taken to calling him Mazrim because of Neya's habit to do so.

"Of course not! Sweetie, nobody's going to throw you out. This is your home. Mazrim knows that," she said softly, stroking the little girl's hair soothingly. "You're safe here. I'll look after you."

"Always?" Karys whispered.

"Always," Neya replied firmly. "I promise."


	35. Slowly, and then all at once

A week later, Taril came up with a weave for the men to bond their wives. It was apparently similar to the weave that the Aes Sedai used to bond their Warders. Before she or Mazrim even heard about it, the Dedicated had already demonstrated it for everyone who asked. Amusingly enough, the only way he could show them was by kissing his wife and weaving the bond in place as he did so. Mazrim's eyes flashed with fury when he found out, although his face remained impassive. He told the men and Taril in particular to stop experimenting with such things without his permission and gave them all extra chores for having loitered around too long.

When Neya arrived for their daily meeting that evening, Mazrim was sitting at the table, an empty goblet in front of him. If she didn't know any better, she would have said he was brooding. She sat across from him, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. He fixed his eyes on her, scowling darkly. "I won't bond you," he declared without preamble.

She hadn't thought he would. They had spent a lot of time together since they'd come back from Dumai's Wells, but the man didn't let on anything. She couldn't tell how he felt about her. Sometimes she was afraid he considered her like nothing more than his bed warmer. Still, she had an idea. She did her best to look genuinely offended. "I certainly hope not," she replied coolly. His scowl deepened. Obviously, this was not what he'd expected. "What makes you think I'd want you to bond me? You really believe I want you to know everything I feel?" she scoffed. "We're not married, Mazrim," she told him with a small sneer.

He stared at her for a long minute, clearly startled by her reaction, although as usual, it hardly showed on his face. "Right," he mumbled eventually with a dismissive gesture. Dinner was served a moment later and they moved on to business, and then to bed.

She lay on her side, and he rested behind her with an arm across her chest, as he often did. She was comfortable and beginning to drowse when he finally took the bait she had planted earlier. "We could try it tonight," he whispered in her ear. "Just for a while." He didn't specify what they were supposed to try and he didn't need to. She grinned widely as she turned to face him. _Hook, line and sinker_ , she thought smugly.

She had read about this concept in one of Elan's books dating from the Age of Legends. Reverse psychology, it was called. The gist of it was that you simply argued in favour of what you _didn't_ want the other person to do and, somehow, that would lead them to do exactly the opposite of what you suggested, which was in fact what you _did_ want them to do. She had struggled with the theory for a while; the phrasing had been made of uselessly complicated terms. Elan explained in plainer words, although she had been unconvinced as to the method's chances of success. She was glad to know she'd been wrong.

He was gazing at her intently, eyes narrowed. "You knew I was going to say that, didn't you?" he muttered resignedly. She let out a small giggle and he sighed dramatically. "I do keep underestimating you, don't I?" he murmured, moving forward to kiss her. She shivered slightly as he did but a sudden booming awareness made her gasp. He stopped what he was doing, but she barely noticed. Her mind now seemed to be made of two entities.

She lay there gaping, unable to move. She could _feel_ him, not just physically, but intellectually, psychically, emotionally. They stared at each other for a long time. She couldn't even begin to understand the whirlwind that was his mind. Emotions came and went, some flickering, others glowing bright. How could the man even think with this tempest swirling around in his head, let alone appear so poised all the bloody time? Abruptly, his focus seemed to sharpen, and she felt herself blush when she identified the emotion linked to it. It was even better than she had imagined.


	36. And in the morning, I'm making waffles

He lay behind her, as he often did, with an arm tightly wrapped around her shoulder. He liked it this way; when he held _saidin_ , as he often did, he could feel her heart beating and hear her even breathing – and yes, her light snoring. He found it all very… comforting.

It had come as even more of a shock than he had anticipated, bonding her. He would never admit it to her, barely admitted it to himself, but he'd wanted her to convince him. He wanted to be close to her, no matter how wrong it was. He needed her.

He had tried to push her away; he had meant to, anyway, but he was still the man he'd been eleven years ago, when he stood on the edge of World's End. After all those years, after everything he'd been through, he was still the same wretched coward he'd always been. _People never change_ , he reflected bitterly, _they simply get better at concealing their flaws_.

He had known that she truly cared for him. That much had been obvious. But his expectations were a far cry from what he had felt when he bonded her: this wasn't mere attachment or endearment. She loved him. Simply, genuinely, absolutely loved him. The feeling overwhelmed him utterly, and left him speechless with wonder.

She had stared at him with a puzzled look on her face, as if she couldn't quite figure out what she was getting from him. To be fair, he had no idea how he was feeling at the time. Numb and shocked, probably. The next part had left them both dazed. It was difficult to put into words how extraordinary it was, to be merged together so completely.

He'd had no visit from Moridin since Dumai's Wells, and Demandred hadn't shown himself in weeks now. He was worried about what they would do when they found out about her. In his mind, there was no doubt that they _would_ find out. He was perfectly aware that they both had spies at the Black Tower. He simply wondered when. The fact that he'd had no one's life to be blackmailed with had been his only real advantage on the two Forsaken so far.

He knew he should remove the bond; he should have cut it off the moment she fell asleep. It was just so reassuring, to know she was there, so real, so close to him. To know that she cared. Being a Darkfriend, and an unwilling one at that, was truly a lonely path to follow, not to mention a hazardous occupation.

She was awakening slowly, he could feel it through the bond. He rolled on his back and she turned to wrap herself around him. "Are you alright?" she asked sleepily.

"Can't you tell?"

"Not really. If anything, the bond makes you even harder to read."

"What do you mean?" he asked uncertainly.

She was silent for a time, as if considering her answer. "I don't know. It's difficult to identify what you're feeling at any specific moment because there are so many different emotions all at once."

What was she saying? That he was mad? He couldn't be. He was protected. At least that was what Ishamael told him. Could he really rely on the word of a dead madman? Or maybe he'd already been mad before Ishamael even came along. He could ask her to Delve his mind to find out. He would have, if he'd had the nerve. Instead he rolled over her until he was lying on top of her. "What about now? Can you tell what I'm feeling?" She chuckled. Then, just as things were getting interesting, someone knocked on the door. Since it was the middle of the night, it had to be important. Peace, it had betterbe important.

He got up, put on a robe and opened the door. For a second he thought no one was there, until he noticed the little girl staring up at him with large green eyes. It was the same girl who'd barrelled into him on the day he arrived; Ilawen, he thought her name was. She was also one of the two children Neya seemed to have taken under her wing after their father died at Dumai's Wells – and well before that, come to think of it. He crouched in front of her so as not to strain his neck. "What are you doing here?" he asked with all the patience he could muster.

"I can't sleep," she replied matter-of-factly. "But Karys is sleeping and I don't want to wake her. Can I stay here?" Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past him and stalked into the room. "Neya!" he heard her cry out a second later. How did she even known Neya was here?

Standing up, he made his way back to the bed hesitantly. Surely Neya wasn't going to let her stay here all night, was she?

Neya had put on a robe and was sitting on the edge of the bed with the girl, the two of them whispering animatedly. Through the bond, he could feel her concern and fondness for the child. How did she manage to care so much about so many people at once? She looked up at him and gave him an apologetic smile and a small shrug. Apparently, she _was_ going to let the girl stay here. What was _he_ supposed to do?

"Can we play a game?" Ilawen asked enthusiastically.

Neya gazed up at him once more, the question plain on her face. "Fine," he said, feeling a little exasperated.

They all settled on the large bed with a deck of cards, but they didn't play for very long; after three games, the little girl began to nod off and Neya tucked her under the covers. She motioned for him to lie down next to her, cramming herself against him to leave enough space for Ilawen, who was sprawled on the left side of the bed. "Sorry about that," she said softly. "She has nightmares. They both do. That's why I sometimes spend part of the night with them."

"They shouldn't stay here. We should send them away, to an orphanage. This is no place for children, girls especially."

He felt her stiffen against him and received a spike of something… dangerous… through the bond. "What's that supposed to mean? What does the fact that they're girls have to do with anything? They've been here for longer than you have, and they do their share of chores. Karys has even taken up the sword and trains with Saeric, too. Do you consider all women to be useless?" she asked him sharply.

He stared at the ceiling as she scolded him, feeling more baffled by the second. He hadn't said anything like that! Carefully, he turned on his side to face her as she finished speaking. She was looking at him fiercely, as if daring him to even answer. He cleared his throat. "I never said women were useless," he said, a little defensively. "I'm Saldaean, for crying out loud, I know better than anyone that a woman is as capable as any man. And I know first-hand that you're not useless. But this is a place for male channelers, not for little girls. Neya, I'm building an army of lethal weapons to be used in the Last Battle. Surely you can see why it's inappropriate for them to be here. I shouldn't have allowed families to settle here in the first place. That was a mistake. It's too late to take it back now, I know," he went on hastily when her eyes flashed, "but after what happened with Proctor, it should have been clear that this was a bad idea." He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. "Neya, I know you care for them, but this is no place for a child to grow up, especially if their parents are not around," he told her quietly.

She was silent for a long time, and the bond was full of anger and frustration. He couldn't say if the anger was directed at him. "I _am_ their parent," she said eventually. "For all intents and purposes, I am. They have no one else, and I won't have them sent to some orphanage where the Light knows what will happen to them. You can't send them away, Mazrim. Their father died for the Black Tower. They have as much right to be here as anyone else."

"Fine, they can stay here," he said with a resigned sigh. Peace, he couldn't refuse her anything, could he? "But I won't have them sleeping in my bed every flaming night." She snuggled closer to him without speaking. There was no need; he could tell exactly how she felt. The bond sent him waves of relief and – there it was again, that incredible, impossible love. What was he going to do about _that_?

* * *

Atal made his way briskly toward M'Hael's house – it was really more of a mansion now, almost a palace – when Karys approached him timidly. "Excuse me, Asha'man?"

Atal gave her a bright smile. "Hey there. What's going on?"

"Have you seen my sister?"

"Nope, sorry, love. Have you asked Neya? She's usually with her."

The girl shook her head dejectedly. "I went to Neya's room but she's not there. I don't know where they are."

"Well, Neya's probably with M'Hael." She spent a lot of time there, these days, even more than usual. He had dismissed the rumour that were lovers, at first, but Taim was certainly different since they came back from Dumai's Wells. The man was a puzzle. "I'm going there right now. Care to join me?" he asked the girl.

She nodded gratefully. "Yes, thank you."

It was a short walk. Atal knocked on the door and waited. They heard rapid footsteps coming their way and the door flew open. It was Ilawen, he realised with faint surprise. "Karys! Come quick, there's waffles! I was going to bring you some but Neya said I should wash up first," the girl said with a grimace.

Both sisters ran inside and M'Hael walked to the door. "Asha'man," the Saldaean greeted him perfunctorily. It still flustered him slightly to see the older man. Atal had been one the first man to begin training at the Black Tower, back when it had been known only as the farm, and he had also been one of the first to be raised to the highest rank. Full of his newly acquired authority, he had felt almost invincible, like nothing to could stop him.

He had been on guard duty that night, keeping watch on the entrance. The task was left to lesser Soldiers during the day, but M'Hael preferred an Asha'man to be present at night, the only time when an attack could possibly make any sense, although Atal couldn't see how anyone would be stupid enough to launch an assault on a place full of channelers. At the time, M'Hael seemed to think Aes Sedai would come barging in at any moment. Taim appeared sometime before dawn, looking thoughtful. He stood there beside Atal for a long time without speaking; he wasn't a man to make small talk and Atal knew that – he'd already tried to engage in conversation before, to no avail. So Atal waited. "I need you to do something for me, Mishraile." M'Hael never called anyone by their first names – except Neya, for some reason. It was surprising enough that he'd even used his name at all. He usually stuck to their rank. "I need you to spy on Neya. I think she's experimenting on something I've expressly forbidden her to experiment on."

It seemed simple enough. Atal agreed without bothering to ask what the forbidden experiment entailed. He would find out soon enough. On a whim, he had turned toward M'Hael and kissed him full on the mouth. He'd been told before that he should think more before he acted, that he should ponder the consequences of his actions. He often wondered how anyone ever achieved anything, thinking so much. He preferred to act and deal with the aftermath. He felt M'Hael stiffen, obviously caught off guard, but he pushed Atal away a moment later, not unkindly. "I think you're mistaking me," he said simply. _Well_ , Atal thought, _it was an honest mistake_. The man was absolutely unreadable. He wouldn't have known if he'd never tried. It was a bit awkward after that, although M'Hael didn't make a fuss – he never did. It was done and forgotten already. "Have you considered Lothbrok?" he asked a moment later. "I think you might find what you're looking for there."

Trygg Lothbrok was one of the newest recruits, a stocky man in his early thirties with an impressive beard. As it turned out, M'Hael was right about the man. Atal briefly wondered how Taim could possibly know, but he didn't let it bother him. The man seemed to know everything that happened within the grounds, and most of what was going on in the world besides.

"A man arrived at the front gate half an hour ago, demanding to see you," Atal told M'Hael now. "He looked like something the cat dragged in, so we thought it better to have him at least take a bath first." He hesitated. M'Hael was studying him impassively, waiting for him to go on. "He says his name is Logain Ablar. Like the False Dragon from Ghealdan," Atal went on eventually. He would have dismissed him as insane and not bothered Taim with this at all, but the man appeared lucid enough, and was quite stubborn besides.

M'Hael frowned slightly at that. "Can he channel?"

Atal nodded. "Aye. He's strong, too, stronger than Narishma." At least as strong as M'Hael himself, as far as Atal could tell, but he wasn't about to say it out loud.

"Well then, it can't be Ablar. The man was severed months ago," Taim said dismissively.

"I know, but… He claims he's been Healed, M'Hael. By an Aes Sedai."

M'Hael grimaced slightly. "Brilliant. He's not a liar, he's a madman. Just what I needed," he muttered. Atal saw him check on a small vial he kept in his coat pocket and shuddered involuntarily. Poison. "Bring him here," M'Hael told him. He paused briefly as the cries of the girls having breakfast in the nearby room reached them. "In an hour," he added with a resigned sigh.


	37. Childe Logain to the Black Tower came

Logain had bathed and been given a change of clothes, a simple shirt and faded dark breeches. He'd been on the road for… Was it two weeks? Three? He wasn't sure. He'd been too focused on his destination to care about much else. Too delighted, too relieved to be able to channel again, to be free at last. The black-coated men assured him Taim would be notified of his arrival, and an arrogant, golden-haired youth came soon afterward to let him know his audience would take place in an hour. The same man – Asha'man Mishraile, he'd introduced himself – was now leading him through a crowded street, where Logain had to dodge running children and men and women hurrying in all directions. There were quite a lot of dogs around as well. Logain knew the animals enjoyed the company of male channelers, unlike cats, who preferred Aes Sedai.

The young man led him to what looked like a small palace, or a large mansion. He knocked on the door and it opened a moment later to reveal a pretty young woman with wavy brown hair. He smiled at her, but she didn't appear to notice. "Come on in. He's in the study." She moved away from the door to let them pass, still not looking at him. As he moved closer to her, he realised that the girl seemed to… glow. He remembered seeing that kind of aura around someone before, a young man who stood near the Royal Gardens of Andor when Logain was brought inside the city in a cage, what seemed like a thousand years ago. He hadn't paid much attention back then, but now he was curious to know what it meant – if it meant anything. There was no time, however. His guide was already walking ahead and the girl had gone back to what appeared to be the kitchen. Logain wondered if he'd just been brought in through the back door.

Logain followed Mishraile to the next room on the right, where another man sat writing at a desk. He had his back to them. "Just a moment," he said without looking at them. They stood waiting at the door for a minute before he finally stood up. He was a tall man, close to Logain's own height, and obviously Saldaean. Mazrim Taim. "Thank you, Asha'man." The dismissal was clear in his voice. The younger man bowed slightly and departed. "Sit down," he went on, addressing Logain and indicating some comfortable-looking chairs. Logain took the one nearest to the door. Taim sat across from him and studied him for a moment. "You claim to be Logain Ablar," he said eventually.

Logain snorted. "It's not a claim, it's a fact. I _am_ Logain Ablar. Former False Dragon and dispossessed minor Ghealdanin noble," he added bitterly. "And you claim to be Mazrim Taim." He fixed the other man's eyes steadily.

"M'Hael," the other man corrected him. Logain frowned at him. M'Hael? If his rudiments of Old Tongue served him, that meant… "It means 'leader' in the Old Tongue," the Saldaean explained contemptuously. It did mean that, but the fact that there was no prefix implied that he led nothing specifically or, rather, that he led everything. Literally, it would translate as 'leader of all'. _Is it an inaccuracy on the man's part or does he really think that highly of himself?_ Logain wondered idly. "Unlike you," Taim went on, "I have people to back that claim."

Logain sneered. "Many people can confirm it for you, if you can be bothered to ask. It's like I told your men, Taim," he emphasised the name slightly, "I was captured and gentled, then I escaped the Tower – the White Tower – and made my way to Salidar, where the rebel Aes Sedai have gathered. You've heard about that, surely?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. Taim nodded sharply. "When I was there, I was Healed by a young woman named Nynaeve al'Meara. I don't know how she did it," he said truthfully, spreading his hands apart, "but I swear it's true. I will swear an oath on it, if you wish," he said with a shrug.

Taim was still studying him, his dark eyes glittering. "Would al'Thor know you?" Logain shook his head. He had never met al'Thor before. Taim was silent for another moment. "Seize _saidin_ ," he demanded abruptly. "Hold as much of it as you can."

Logain complied without a word. As always lately, he felt relief mixed with distaste as the Power filled him. He had to admit that he had not missed the taint. _Saidin_ surged through him as he held as much as he could safely manage without harming himself. Taim nodded briefly, more to himself than to Logain, and gestured for him to release, which Logain did reluctantly. There was a soft knock on the door, but the girl didn't wait for an answer before walking in. She carried a tray with cups and a pot of tea, as well as some biscuits. She set it down on the table then took a chair for herself and settled down with them.

Logain looked at her in surprise, then at Taim, but the man didn't say anything. He seemed lost in thought. The girl turned to Logain with a bright smile. "You're Logain?" she asked with obvious curiosity. He nodded. "I'm Neya," she introduced herself.

Neya? The woman who supposedly ran the place with Taim? She was barely more than a girl! "Pleasure, miss," he said gallantly. He smiled once more, and this time she gave him a small grin in return. Light, she was pretty. As if reading his mind, her grin widened and he felt himself blush slightly. Taim was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Logain cleared his throat roughly. "Look, it's easy. You obviously know how to make gateways. All you have to do is find someone who knows me, and they'll tell you I'm who I _claim_ to be."

"No, I don't think so." Taim turned to Neya. "Can you Delve him?" he asked her.

She appeared surprised by the question – although not as surprised as Logain was that the girl could channel – but she quickly rose from her seat and walked up to Logain. He looked up at her, although she was short enough that he barely had to raise his head. "May I?" she asked him. He nodded a trifle uncertainly. She put her hands on his temples and his skin broke into goose bumps as she embraced _saidar_. She stared at his forehead for a minute or so before finally stepping back. Taim had gone to stand by the window and was staring outside. Neya joined him and they talked softly for a moment but, no matter how he strained, he couldn't hear what was being said. He could have, if he'd seized _saidin_ , but he doubted the other man would appreciate.

It lasted less than a minute, then the girl came back to pour the tea. She handed him a cup and took one for herself before settling back in her chair. Taim was still standing near the window, his back to them. "When did you realise you could channel? How many years ago?" Neya asked him.

"About seven years."

She seemed to consider that for a moment. "How long were you gentled for? Almost two years?" Logain nodded sharply. This was not something he was comfortable discussing, not even now. They lapsed into silence. The girl looked thoughtful.

Taim finally walked back to his chair. "I believe you are who you say you are," he said cautiously, "but why have you come here? You can already channel better than most. There's not much I can teach you."

What had the girl told Taim that he suddenly believed him? Could she tell if someone was lying by Delving them? "Where else can I go?" he replied bitterly. "The rebel Aes Sedai may have let me go, but the White Tower will still be on the lookout for me. Here, I can benefit from al'Thor's amnesty, just like you."

Taim nodded. "You may remain here. Neya will show you around and we will discuss further tonight." He got up once more. "I have much to attend to." Without another word, he left.

Logain stared after him for a moment. What _had_ the girl said to convince him he was indeed himself? And why did she glow like that? He opened his mouth to ask any of these questions but she forestalled him. "How is Nynaeve?" she asked eagerly. "Did you see Egwene, too?"

He was slightly taken aback. How did she know them? "Nynaeve is… fine," he told her. "Stubborn woman. But I owe her. More than she knows, I'd wager. The other one – Egwene? – she's their Amyrlin now." She seemed to know them personally. Was she an Aes Sedai? She certainly didn't look or sound like one.

Neya's eyes opened wide at that. " _Egwene_ is the Amyrlin? Are you sure? A short girl, with long dark hair and large brown eyes?" Logain nodded. "Burn me!" she muttered incredulously. Then she let out an amused chuckle. "All things considered, I shouldn't be surprised. She's probably fitter for the stole than anyone else. She was always so bossy when we were younger. Always scolding us. But she's capable, and she's tough. She'll be great. She'll be the grandest Amyrlin the world has ever known, you mark my words." Logain didn't answer. From what he'd seen, the girl did appear to know what she was doing. "Anyway," Neya went on, "we should get started. I'll show you around quickly, but I have sword practice in half an hour. Come on." She took sword lessons? And she could channel, and she glowed. The girl was an enigma. Her relation to Taim was unclear to say the least. He would have to ask about that as well. As he stood up, he began to wonder exactly what he'd just walked into.

* * *

Logain met with Taim again that evening. It was a rather brief discussion; the Saldaean made excuses after barely half an hour. Neya had already explained how the ranks were attributed, so he supposed it made sense for Taim to hand out both pins from the start. Taim further explained that he gave the Asha'man more advanced lessons and that Logain was welcome to join them. Logain said that he would think about it. The older man had then proceeded to question him about his time in Salidar.

He couldn't say what it was exactly, but something about Taim troubled him – disturbed him, in fact. It might have been nothing more than his patronising, almost condescending manner towards Logain. Or maybe it was his obvious vain streak. Logain couldn't fathom vanity in a man.

In any case, he was fairly certain that they wouldn't become best friends any time soon.

Neya was another matter entirely. She had appeared somewhat aloof, when they were in Taim's study, but she turned out to be quite amiable. And she had an amazing smile.

She seemed to be constantly surrounded by two little girls, although neither child could possibly be her own. Neya couldn't be more than eighteen, nineteen at most. She filled him in on life at the Black Tower. Everybody was given their share of chores, except for the Asha'man, who were only occasionally given guard duty or sent on missions abroad. Logain would be given a barrack for now, until it was made clear what Taim intended to do with him. She asked him if he would be interested in taking sword practice and he shrugged noncommittally, although he supposed the exercise would do him some good, after so long. He wondered how the girl managed to even hold a sword properly, she was so tiny.

It had therefore come as a shock when he finally understood that she was in fact the one who trained the men. She must have realised that he hadn't caught on yet because she asked him to demonstrate what he could do when they reached the practice yard. She offered him a practice sword and took one for herself and they stood facing each other in the yard as the rest of the men gathered around them. He heard not a few sniggers and even outright whoops when he asked her if she wouldn't prefer he demonstrated with someone his own size or at least waited for their tutor to show up.

She gave him quite a trashing, he didn't mind admitting. She probably somewhat relied on the fact that most men were likely to underestimate her – or dismiss her entirely, as he had stupidly done – but even once he understood who he was really facing, he'd been hard-pressed to keep up with her. She was stunningly fast and more vicious than a grizzled alley cat. She hadn't seriously hurt him, of course, but his pride had taken a painful blow.

After practice, Neya had left him in the care of several Dedicated and left to attend to other matters.

Later that afternoon, they all gathered in the large tent where dinner was served. There were so many people that they had to divide the services. The children and women ate first, then the Soldiers, and finally, the Dedicated. Apparently, the Asha'man usually took their meals in their own barracks or, in Taim's case, in his mansion.

An exception was made for Neya's two miniature escorts; apparently, Ilawen and Karys were allowed to eat whenever and wherever they wanted. He expected Neya herself to join them, but she explained that she took her meals with Taim, so they could review the events of the day.

Ilawen had apparently decided Logain made a comfortable chair and stayed with him for a long time, pestering him with questions during the whole meal, under the amused grins of the other Dedicated. She didn't quit until Karys scolded her and told her that they should wash up and brush their teeth before Neya came back to tuck them in.

The other men who shared his table on that first day had introduced themselves earlier as Androl Genhald, Evin Vinchova and Taril Canler. Genhald appeared to be a reliable, down-to-earth man and quite capable despite his weakness in the Power. He could barely channel enough to light a candle but, the others explained, he had a special Talent for creating the largest and most incredible gateways. Genhald had to be pressed to demonstrate, but he agreed eventually. Although gateways were a novelty to Logain, it seemed improbable that the man could channel enough to make even a small one. He made six, all simultaneously and of various sizes. It was truly astounding.

Canler told him about the weave he'd discovered to bond women and offered to show him how to do it, but Logain declined. He couldn't see the use of such a weave, not for himself, anyway.

Vinchova couldn't have been more than sixteen. He spoke very little and seemed uncomfortable at having been raised to Dedicated so fast. He appeared almost frightened of Logain, or maybe he was simply impressed by his tale of being gentled and then Healed.

Logain set to find out more about Taim and his activities. The Saldaean was obviously neglecting some of the students in favour of others, although it was unclear why some men made it into his advanced class when others did not. It didn't seem to be related to their strength in the Power, or not only related to that. The Soldiers and Dedicated didn't know what was taught during those special lessons. It seemed Taim was inflexible where discipline was concerned, although the men agreed, almost reluctantly, that he was mostly fair in that regard.

When he asked about Neya's place in the Tower and her relationship with the Saldaean, he sensed a slight unease from his fellow channelers, which he interpreted to mean that they were lovers. He had suspected, of course, but it was still rather surprising. They didn't seem alike in any way. He supposed he was also a bit disappointed. He'd had half a mind to go after the girl himself.

Apparently, she was in charge of pretty much everything that didn't directly pertain to channeling, from the scheduling of meals to the repartition of the chores. The men were fond of her and spoke highly of her, although they clearly didn't approve of her relationship with Taim. Their opinion of the Saldaean was ambiguous: they didn't like him, but they seemed to respect him, if somewhat grudgingly.

After dinner, Logain walked back to the barrack that had been appointed to him and met Neya on the way. "Off to nurse your bruises?" she asked with a sly grin.

"I fear it will be some time before I regain feeling in my left arm," he told her impassively.

"Light, I'm sorry," she said, eyes wide. "I should have offered to Heal you. I don't know what I was thinking." She looked genuinely embarrassed, she wasn't making fun of him.

He let out a hearty laugh. "I'm just kidding, lass. Don't worry, I'll live. I've been through worse than that." _Worse than you can imagine_ , he reflected sourly.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble at all." He shook his head amiably. His pride had taken all it could handle in one day. "Alright then. Don't let me keep you. Have a good night." She gave him a bright smile. _Light, she's so pretty._ He gave her his best grin in return and stared at her ruefully as she made her way to the children's barracks. Well, nothing is etched in stone. He could be quite charming, when he put his mind to it. Taim had better watch out for himself.


	38. My sweet deluded little minion

Neya was starting to doze off, it was clear through the bond. They were lying in the bathtub; they'd been in there for a while now. It had been a long day, and a bad one at that. The rain had begun to fall the previous day, lightly at first, but a few hours later the land was covered in snow. The sudden shift in weather took them utterly by surprise and preparations had to be made in all urgency. It was a good thing that they could make gateways, otherwise they would be in a pickle. He had sent some men to al'Thor at the Dragon's request as well. And then one of the Dedicated had gone mad. Again, unfortunately, they'd had absolutely no warning.

A piercing scream was heard coming from the barn and several men rushed there to find Solomon Navolo trying to rape another Soldier's sister, a girl of barely thirteen. Her brother was the first to arrive on the scene and he'd attempted to stop the other man, but Solomon had taken over and incinerated the lad on the spot. It had taken ten men to finally arrest and shield him. Mazrim himself had only been alerted minutes later. Neya was already talking to Navolo when he walked in. She had dismissed everyone else; the men holding Navolo's shield were planted outside. The madman was crying, a frantic wail that shook Mazrim to his core. The bond echoed the lament with waves of bleakness and sorrow. Neya shook her head slightly and he knew nothing could be done for the man. That left only one option. He'd uncorked the small vial he kept in his coat pocket at all times and asked Neya to get the man something to drink. She hadn't even blinked, and he was grateful for that, although he could feel her pain through the bond. Not for herself, but for him, because she knew what it cost him to slip the contents of the vial in their drink. She knew better than anyone else.

Neya was asleep now. They should have gone to bed earlier, but he always felt dirty after such procedures, although no amount of soap could ever remove the stain of these men's deaths from his soul – provided that he still had one. He didn't like to dwell on that thought. Killing didn't become easier with time, no matter how many times he repeated himself it was a necessary evil.

With a sigh, he woke her up gently. If they stayed any longer, they would melt. "Let's get to bed," he whispered in her ear. She mumbled something unintelligible in return and slowly rose out of the bathtub. He felt a slight tingle on his skin as she embraced the Source to dry herself. He got up after her and did likewise. She was reaching for her robe when he saw her froze mid-gesture. The bond went still with fear and shock. Before he could turn to face the threat, he realised he was shielded. He completed his movement, knowing what awaited him.

A tall, hooked-nosed man stood in the room, his dark eyes fixed on them. Before Mazrim could say or do anything, Neya knelt, head bowed. "Great Master," she murmured. Mazrim stared at her in horror, gaping. She couldn't be a Darkfriend. It was impossible. After all this time, he would have known if she was, especially with the bond. But then how could she know who–

"Must I make you kneel, Taim?" the newcomer demanded scornfully. Mazrim fell to his knees and bowed his head, imitating Neya. "Better. You will come with me, girl," Demandred went on flatly. "On your feet." Mazrim saw Neya move from the corner of his eye, but he dared not raise his head. The bond felt… numb. Was she under Compulsion? Lifting his eyes cautiously, he saw a gateway appear next to the Forsaken, although he couldn't make out the weaves, for some reason. Neya walked through it without pausing. "Do not move until I come back," he told her before closing the gateway. "A foolish mistake," he stated, addressing Mazrim.

 _As if I didn't know that_ , he thought bitterly. This was it, what he'd been expecting for the past few weeks. It had taken longer than he thought. What was even more bizarre, the Forsaken had come in just a few days earlier to take his report and never mentioned it. Not that it mattered now. The bond had receded to the back of his mind; he could barely feel Neya at all. She was suddenly far to the east. The Aiel Waste? Could that be where Demandred had established himself? That didn't make any sense. There was nothing there.

"She will be safe," the Forsaken said, "as long as you obey. You know your orders, Taim. I strongly suggest that you carry them out before my next visit. I will accept no more excuses from you." With that, he turned to step into the gateway that had just flashed back into existence. Before it winked out again, the bond suddenly sent him a flood of emotions: regret, worry, hope. And as always, love. Then it was gone.


	39. Fear me, if you dare

_You have got to be kidding me_ , she thought disbelievingly. Once again, she found herself at the mercy of one of the Forsaken. Honestly, it was becoming tiresome.

The knot of emotions that was Mazrim had receded to a faint impression in the back of her mind. She must have travelled a long distance for him to feel so far away. Oddly, she thought he was somewhere ahead of her, when she'd just turned her back on him. She had no idea which way was which, however. As far as she knew, she could be in the Blight or in flaming Seanchan.

She took a quick look around the room she'd just walked into. It was vast and very white, with tasteful furniture and a few exotic-looking plants. There was a large balcony in front of her, with colourful drapes hanging in the arched doorway leading outside. It seemed to be daytime, although she couldn't see the sun; she must have travelled very far indeed. She didn't dare even turn around to get a better impression of the rest of the room. He said not to move, so she didn't move. She knew better than to disobey one of the Forsaken, Demandred least of all.

 _Demandred_ , the one who twists the blade. Of all the Forsaken, he was the one who scared her the most. Elan said he was driven by his hate of Lews Therin and that nothing would make him deviate from his course once he had his mind set. He was meticulous, austere, and valued loyalty and honour above all, although his concept of honour was his very own. At least she hadn't ended up with Graendal. Demandred was likely more dangerous, but Jay said he only used Compulsion as a last resort, unlike Graendal. She might retain her ability to think for herself, if she was careful.

He was back only moments later. She felt Mazrim rush back in her mind as the gateway opened behind her. The bond was a tangle of confusion and cold rage. Of course, from the way she'd reacted upon spotting Demandred, Mazrim might assume she was serving him. The fact that Demandred was there in the first place seemed to indicate Mazrim himself was a Darkfriend, or at least a puppet to the Forsaken. Jay was right. They had gotten to him after all.

Knowing the gateway would close in an instant, she concentrated on sending positive emotions through the bond. It was gone again only a second later. She hoped he had caught the gist of it.

Abruptly, it dawned on her that she was in a room with a complete stranger and wearing no clothes at all. She felt herself blush as Demandred came into view, although he kept his eyes on hers. His stunning beauty somehow made it even worse. She lowered her eyes to fix her feet.

"You are Neya al'Kane," he said matter-of-factly. She nodded tersely. "Do you know who I am?" She nodded again. "Good. You are in the land known as Shara, if you were wondering." Shara? The land beyond the Aiel Waste? She knew absolutely nothing of it, besides the obviously exaggerated facts gleaned in Jain Farstrider's adventures. Demandred cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her head until she was looking at his face. "You will look me in the eyes, girl. The only people here who keep their eyes on the floor are slaves, and as it happens, I have just abolished slavery. You will call me Bao. Sharans do not bother with last names or other frivolities. Is that clear?" he asked softly. She nodded once more. "Speak up, girl."

"Yes, it is clear, Bao," she muttered.

It was all she could do to meet his eyes. They were like stones; his face was so still he could have been a statue. He released his grip on her. "Good," he said again. "I have brought you here for a reason. You will be in charge of the male Ayyad." Neya frowned in confusion. He had brought her here for a specific reason? She had assumed she was serving as leverage to insure Mazrim's continued obedience or loyalty, or both. And what in the Pit of Doom was an Ayyad? Suddenly, she realised that the Forsaken hadn't even bothered to shield her. Not that she was about to try anything in any case. She knew very little that wasn't related to Healing. "They are what the Sharans call male channelers. They will be taught to channel properly in a few weeks. What I need from you now is to teach them to be… human." Her frown deepened. What was he talking about? "The Sharans are a harsh people. They have taken drastic measures to insure that male channelers would cause no problem. They used them for breeding purposes," he explained flatly, and her face must have changed at that. "Yes, you heard correctly. They were paired with the female Ayyad, the equivalent of those so-called Aes Sedai of yours, to engender more channelers. Then, as they reached their twenty-first year, if the madness had not taken them yet, they were executed. In the meantime, they were kept in small enclosed villages, isolated from the outside world, and raised like cattle for the slaughter. None of them can read and few can even talk properly. They behave like animals." He was looking at her intensely. "I have freed them, and they have chosen to pledge their lives to me in return, but they need to be taught how to _be_ , before they can be taught anything else."

"But… why me? You do know I'm not a Darkfriend, don't you?" she asked in a puzzled voice.

"Evidently. I am aware of your… history… with some of the other Chosen as well. But you have experience, from your time spent at the Black Tower. And you know… al'Thor," The pause before Rand's name was almost imperceptible, but it had been there. "You come from the same village. I intend to make use of that knowledge."

Light, how much had Mazrim told him? "And what makes you think I will do what you ask? That I won't try to sabotage whatever you're planning?" she asked defiantly. She would be damned if she let herself be trodden on once more without a fight.

The man would have made even Lan look jolly. Light, but he was _cold_. "My people in Cairhien and at the Black Tower tell me you are a Healer. Unless you are like Semirhage, and I do not think you are, that means you care about other people. When you see the Ayyad, I doubt you will even consider sabotage. They genuinely need you." He seemed incredibly earnest, for all his stone-cold attitude and even worse reputation. And he had a point; it wasn't like her to leave innocent people to their fate without at least trying to help. Curse the bloody man, he knew exactly what he was doing by bringing her here.

"Alright, fine," she said with an exasperated gesture of her hands. What else could she do? "Just take me to them and I'll do what I can. Do they even speak the Common Tongue, or the Old Tongue? I don't know the first thing about this flaming place."

"You will not be alone. I have put someone else in charge while I was considering the right person for the task. His name is Mintel. He will assist you, and teach you what you need to know about Shara and its customs. He is fluent in a dozen languages, including the Common Tongue. It will not be a problem as far as the Ayyad are concerned, however. As I said earlier, most of them cannot even speak. You may teach them the Common Tongue if it is more convenient." He scowled slightly. "You will not use that language again."

That language? But he just said she could teach it to them! "I'm not following," she said slowly.

"Do no curse, girl," he said with faint exasperation.

Oh, _that_ language. "Sorry. Bao, may I have something to wear before you send me to the male channelers who don't know how to behave?" she asked wryly before cursing herself for a suicidal fool. Burn her, she had to watch her tongue around the man.

He stalked away without a word and came back with a plain white dress. _Ugh, not a dress_ , she thought sourly. It had to be white, too. It reminded her too much of Lanfear. "Don't you have anything else, by any chance? Some breeches, maybe?"

"Get dressed, girl. We leave in a minute." Reluctantly, she put on the dress. He turned politely around as she did so, as if he hadn't been watching her for minutes when she was stark naked.

"Do you know how to mask your ability to channel from other female channelers?" he asked when she was decent.

"Ah… no. I didn't even know I could do that." That was the simple truth.

"I thought not. You have not received any formal training, have you?"

She shook her head. "Formal or informal, I had no training whatsoever. I've taught myself a few things, but besides Healing, there's not much I can do," she admitted.

He walked away once more and she heard him rummage somewhere on the other side of the room. She still hadn't seen the rest of it. "Lift your hair up," he commanded from behind her. She complied without hesitation and felt him place a necklace around her neck. It was heavy. When he was done, she looked down at the jewel. It was a large, intricately carved necklace of solid gold sprinkled with tiny colourful gems. It had to be gold, judging from the weight. The pattern represented exotic flowers. It was beautiful, if utterly unpractical. She scowled at him questioningly when he planted himself in front of her once more. "It is a _ter'angreal_ , an artefact made during the Collapse. You must not remove it under any circumstances. It will conceal your ability to channel from the female Ayyad," he explained. "My alliance with them is… tenuous. It is a work in progress."

Why was he telling her all that? Why did he appear so confident that she would do everything he asked? "Aren't you going to shield me?" she asked instead.

He arched an eyebrow. "Not unless you give me a reason to. I will trust you until you prove yourself unworthy of my trust, if you should ever be foolish enough to do that. I strongly suggest that you do not try my patience." His voice was a bare whisper as he finished. He seemed to radiate danger.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she assured him. She would sooner fight a pack of lions with her bare hands than cross Demandred. He nodded almost imperceptibly and, without another word, he opened a new gateway.


	40. Stranger in a strange land

Mintel proved to be a spry old man with no hair and very few teeth left. He had a blind eye and two fingers missing on his left hand as well. He was an _abrishi_ , a man who devoted his life to help the people of Shara. That help could come in many ways, from fighting to teaching or even farming. The _abrishi_ were part of an order as old as Shara itself that served Kongsidi, who was some kind of revered god, possibly the Sharan equivalent of the Creator. The men who wished to join the order went through a series of trials that lasted over two years. Any man could decide to join the order at any age, be he a convicted murderer, a wealthy noble or a simple sheepherder. The _abrishi_ were highly respected and it wouldn't occur to anyone to do them harm; it was considered extremely bad luck.

Mintel had… adopted… Bao when he first arrived in Shara, a little less than two years ago. From what Neya gathered, Demandred had been posing as a slave when he met Mintel – he still was, in fact, although he had somehow managed to climb high in the hierarchy. The _abrishi_ taught Demandred the ways of the land, its customs and traditions. His appetite for knowledge was insatiable; he wanted to know everything there was to know of the history and various points of interests of Shara. Neya thought Mintel was aware that the man he called Bao, and sometimes referred to as his 'son', was in fact somebody else entirely. It didn't seem to trouble him, however.

Neya quickly decided that they were going to get along just fine. The old man was astonishingly knowledgeable and seemed to consider it his mission in life to spread that knowledge to anyone who would listen, and Neya was indeed willing to listen. During her first day and most of that night, Mintel gave her a cursory account of Sharan customs as well as some insights regarding his fellow countrymen.

After Demandred's – Bao's – explanations, she had been afraid of what she would find when they arrived in the male Ayyad's encampment. Her fears had all been justified. He had told her that most of them couldn't talk intelligibly. Well, that was true; also true was the fact that they could barely dress on their own or even feed themselves properly, in a few cases. They truly were little more than animals. Bao was right; she could never walk away from this. She had to help them.

There was an exception, however. Only one, among over a hundred, but it was better than nothing. Kalayaan was nineteen. He was only a little taller than Neya, scrawny and dark-skinned. He could speak the Common Tongue as well as the most spoken Sharan dialect and even had rudiments in the language they called _isleh_ , or Ancient, which was the Sharan equivalent of the Old Tongue, although the two had little left in common. He could read and write as well, although his writing was difficult to decipher. He had a dark, twisted sense of humour and enough nerve for a dozen mercenaries.

He never told her this in as many words, but she quickly figured out that the guards who kept watch over the male Ayyad, whom Kalayaan referred to as their 'caretakers', had made him their… plaything. That was how the boy acquired so many skills. For every 'favour' he did them, he received something in return. A book, some extra food, clean water to wash, wine. The books were Kalayaan's most treasured possessions; that was how he had taught himself to read and write, although she couldn't begin to understand how he'd managed that on his own. In any case, it was one of those precious books who had allowed him to take a name for himself. As Mintel explained, none of the other Ayyad had one.

It was agreed with Mintel that the first thing to see to would be to give everyone a name, although even explaining the concept took half a day. Kalayaan asked her and Mintel if he could choose the names himself, as he knew the other boys better than they did. They agreed, and by the end of the first day, they had entered the names of each Ayyad in a ledger.

Not all of the boys had Kalayaan's dark skin. Although that seemed to be a common attribute in this land, some Sharans were as pale as Neya herself. That was due, Mintel explained, partly to slavery and trade. The Aiel were known to trade trespassers for special merchandise, like silk or ivory. Those trespassers were usually sold as slaves to the nobility or given away as servants to the Temple. It was also due to the fact that Shara was vast – much larger than she had imagined – and that according to the region they originated from, skin colour as well as various other physical characteristics varied drastically – just like in the Westlands.

Of course, most of the men hadn't channeled yet. The few who had touched _saidin_ before Bao freed them had been executed, and the rest were simply too young; the eldest was twenty-two, the youngest eleven. Children under ten were kept together with the female Ayyad children in yet another 'village'. There were a handful of channelers so far, including Kalayaan. The most surprising of them was a gigantic youth of twenty who, according to Bao himself, had the potential to match him when he reached his full strength. Unfortunately, the young man, whom Kalayaan had decided to name Abrazo, appeared to be slow-minded. Kalayaan had taken him under his wing from a young age and they were as close as brothers. The man responded to his name so promptly that it was likely Kal had been calling him that for years.

Bao had already given lessons to the few who could channel to prevent any incident but, apparently, he was now too occupied to do so. Kalayaan would therefore be taking care of that until someone else could be appointed; the young man truly had taught himself all sorts of things, and he was blessed with a strong instinct of self-preservation.

Neya and Mintel spread themselves between the boys to teach them to talk. These lessons would be the only ones dispensed during the first week, until everyone could at least understand and repeat the most basic words. Just as she had done at the Black Tower, Neya created a planning to divide up the chores between the Ayyad, taking into account that a third of them were little more than children.

The first days went by in a flash. They were working the Ayyad – and themselves in the process – hard. Thankfully, most of them learned quickly enough. Bao came by at the end of that first week to assess the situation and appeared satisfied by what he saw. Actually, he didn't say anything as he surveyed the boys and received her report and Mintel's, but she assumed it meant they were doing a good job, otherwise he would certainly have said so. He was accompanied by a slender Sharan woman, a non-channeler as far as Neya could tell. She was handsome rather than beautiful and had to be in her late thirties. The woman spent the entire time she was here fixing Neya with appraising eyes, although she never said a word. As he finished his round, Bao approached Neya, leaving the other woman behind. "A word, please?" he said, gesturing toward the tent she'd taken on as her own. He was quite polite, she had to give him that.

When they were settled – sitting cross-legged on the floor; apparently, chairs were considered an oddity in Shara, at least by the less favoured side of the population – he fixed her with a level stare. "Tell me what you know of al'Thor."

"He's the Dragon Reborn," she blurted out without thinking. _Watch your tongue, woolhead. He's not a man to banter with._ "I mean," she went on hastily, "he's stubborn. He's kind, and honest. At least that's how he used to be."

"What do you mean?"

She considered that for a moment. "He's changed. When I saw him in Rhuidean six months ago, I barely recognised him. Mostly it was the way he dressed and carried himself, but his manner was different, too. He's… harder… than before. I think he's trying to steel himself for what's coming, except he's going about it the wrong way."

"How so?" Bao asked in all seriousness, as if he was genuinely interested in her opinion.

"He thinks that if he stops caring about what happens around him, it will somehow render him strong enough to do what he must do, which involves people dying for him, involves _women_ dying for him. He hates that, that women might die for him," she said, talking almost to herself. "But he's wrong. I think he is, anyway. He's making himself harder, when he should become stronger."

Bao frowned. "What difference is there?"

"Strong endures, hard shatters," she murmured. "The less he allows himself to care, the more he's likely to break. He _will_ break, eventually. He wants to do it all by himself, so that only he will suffer the consequences. He refuses to trust anyone. After Dumai's Wells, I can't blame him for that. But he can't do it all on his own. He can't win _Tarmon Gai'don_ by himself."

"You make some good points, but I think he has the right of it. What would you do differently? Trust heedlessly? Allow those closest to you to die because you cannot bear to send them away?" The intensity in his voice almost made it tremble; his eyes seemed to glitter. Not in anger, at least she didn't think so.

"Of course not," she said matter-of-factly. "He can't afford to trust anyone completely. But he has to rely on others, to an extent at least. And there will be casualties no matter what he does, whether he cares or not. He has to retain at least some humanity, if he wants to live long enough to even reach the Last Battle. I think it's a matter of balance," she mused. "He hasn't found the right balance yet. He must care, and trust. Not too much, not too little, but enough." She shrugged. "But what do I know? The fate of the world rests on his shoulders. I can't even imagine what that's like," she whispered.

He was still gazing at her intensely, but it lasted only a moment longer. The next instant his face was stone once more. "What can you tell me about Aybara and Cauthon?"

She looked up at him. Did he know that Mat was her brother? Mazrim didn't known – at least, she didn't think he did. "What do you want to know?" she asked, more sharply than she intended. She really had to be more careful.

"They are both _ta'veren_. That means they are important, somehow. I understand they are friends of al'Thor, but what are they like? What are their skills? Their weaknesses?"

She let out a small chuckle. Apparently, he didn't know much about them. Well, she certainly wasn't about to enlighten him. Vagueness would do, unless he realised she was withholding too much information. "They're both good men, reliable and honest. Two Rivers men. Well, Mat likes to gamble, but he never cheats. Perrin is solid, patient. He's a blacksmith. If he has any other skills, I don't know about them." She shrugged, hopefully in a properly detached manner.

"You grew up with them. You can do better than that," he told her, his voice dangerously soft.

She swallowed involuntarily. "Mat is good with a quarterstaff and he's a decent bowman, like most Two Rivers men. He's… unwillingly smart. That is, there's more to him than people would think on meeting him. He's the kind of person who would jump right into danger to save you, and deny doing anything out of the ordinary when you thank him afterward. His weaknesses… I don't know. He likes pretty girls, he enjoys a drink or two. I already mentioned the gambling."

"Better. And Aybara?"

"Like I said, he's reliable and patient. He's strong as an ox, so he's always very careful around other people, as if he was afraid of hurting them. He's not very talkative, because he likes to think things through before speaking. I don't know what his weaknesses are. Maybe he's _too_ careful? I mean, maybe he might miss an opportunity because he was too busy pondering the consequences. I don't know," she said, shaking her head slowly. "He's a decent archer as well. And he was wielding an axe, last time I saw him, at Dumai's Wells." She didn't mention that he was married, or that he had been appointed Lord of the Two Rivers, or even that his eyes glowed a bright burnished gold. If Bao knew about those facts, he made no mention of it.

He nodded briefly. "That will do, for now. What about the al'Vere girl?"

"Egwene?" Light, was he going to ask for a detailed report of everyone in Emond's Field? She considered what to tell him. Thankfully, she had no clue as to what Egwene had been up to recently. "She's smart, capable, self-assured. She's tough as nails. She's maybe a bit… self-righteous. Moralising. But she's practical, she knows sense when she sees it. Her skills, as far as I know, involve a decent knowledge of herbs and plants, since she was apprentice to our Wisdom. She's a powerful channeler. She learned with both Aes Sedai and Wise Ones and even with the Seanchan, however unwillingly. She hates the Seanchan, by the way," she added, although it seemed self-evident. "And she's the Amyrlin, the leader of the rebel Aes Sedai, but I suppose you already know that."

He didn't bother to answer. "And Nynaeve al'Meara?"

The Wisdom? What did she have to do with all this? Neya knew she was part of the group that left Emond's Field with Rand, but she had no idea what she was doing now. Was she still in Salidar? Should she mention what Logain had said about her Healing him? No, he probably knew that already; Mazrim must have told him Logain's story. "Ah… I haven't seen her in over two years, and we were never very close. She's fierce, I can tell you that much. That ought to be known across the Westlands, at least. Light, even the Sharans must have heard her throw a fit once or twice," she said with a small smile, remembering a few such occasions when it seemed the whole world must be aware than the Wisdom was indeed in a dire mood.

Bao looked at her impassively, obviously waiting for more. _Tough crowd_ , she thought wryly. She cleared her throat. "She's a Healer at heart. She will scold you relentlessly for not putting on a scarf and getting a well-deserved cold, but she won't rest easily until she's certain the fever has broken. She's intent on curing everything and will be devastated if she can't help someone. If anyone ever figures a way to Heal death, it will be Nynaeve al'Meara." She'd already accomplished one seemingly impossible feat; there was no telling what else she could do. All in all, it seemed like a decent description, although she hadn't been lying about not having seen the Wisdom in a long time. She thought Nynaeve was probably the less likely to change, in any case. Bloody stubborn woman.

It seemed to satisfy Bao. He was unfurling from his position on the ground. "Wait," she said. He gave her an ominous look. "I mean, please, if I may ask a question before you leave, Bao." That ought to be polite enough without sounding too servile. He sat back and gestured for her to go on. "Why are you so intent on this particular bunch?" He frowned slightly. "The Ayyad, I mean. Most of them are younger than me, and even the rest is not likely to be able to channel anytime soon. I'm not sure when the Last Battle will begin in earnest, but I doubt they'll be anywhere near ready when it does. Besides, how do you even know they will channel at all? The ability does not pass on genetically, does it?" This was something she hadn't thought to ask Elan or Jay.

He was silent for a moment. She wasn't sure if he was considering his answer or deciding whether to answer at all. "There is a genetic factor," he told her eventually.

"But most of the channelers out of the Two Rivers didn't have parents who could channel, and look how many channelers were discovered there, both men and women," she pointed out.

"It is not a requirement, it simply increases the odds. In our days, what you call the Age of Legends, not many channelers had children."

"Why is that?" she asked curiously.

"Because most of us chose not to settle down. A channeler's lifespan is a long time to spend with the same person. Lews Therin was an exception in that regard. He married young, when he was barely two hundred and sixty, and he was a great-grandfather by the time the War of Power began. It was quite unusual. The few channelers who decided to start a family waited until they were in their later years, around six or seven hundred years old. But even then, it was uncommon."

"But did they marry channelers or… other people?" She had almost said 'commoners'. Elan and Jay had often used that term, but she found it a bit pejorative. "It must be difficult to watch your husband or wife die of old age when you still had decades or centuries to live."

"They married one or the other. Sometimes one and then the other. But death did not affect us the way it affects people nowadays. People lived long, full lives, and accepted death as a part of life. It was just a new beginning, a turning of the Wheel. That was before the Collapse. Afterward, as the days grew more sombre, people would often wonder if the Pit of Doom did not await them instead." He fell silent once more.

"But about the boys…" she prompted him politely. "Even if they all have the spark, it will be years, months at the very least, until they can even touch _saidin_. So why do you put so much effort into tutoring them?"

"They are my people," he replied simply. "They have pledged their lives to me." Well, that wasn't much of an answer. Did he actually care about these people? She had assumed he was using them, taking advantage of their ignorance to manipulate them into doing his bidding. Could they have grown on him? It was worth considering. If he did care, it certainly didn't fit the picture Elan had painted of him and even less so the one Jay had. It was worth investigating indeed.


	41. De oppresso liber

She still had questions, but she could tell from the look on Bao's face that their conversation was at an end. It didn't matter; she would ask Mintel. The Forsaken left without another word, taking his woman with him. The Sharan gave Neya another calculating gaze before stepping through the gateway after Bao. Kalayaan came to stand by her side. "What did he say?"

Neya shrugged. "Not much, really. Do you know who the woman is?"

"Shendla."

Neya turned to face him with an arched eyebrow. "That doesn't tell me much."

"That's all I know."

"Is she his…?" She wasn't sure how to put it.

His mouth twisted in a smile. "You would think so, the way she follows him around and looks at him as if he'd put the stars in the sky, but I'm not so sure," he told her indifferently. He was the only Ayyad who didn't seem to consider Bao like a demi-god. "Mintel might tell you more. I think he knows her."

"Kal, what happens to the male channelers who aren't born of the Ayyad? Or the female channelers, for that matter?"

He looked at her blandly. "How would I know?"

"Right. Guess I'll have to ask Mintel as well. Back to work, then."

It wasn't until late evening that she could finally afford to take a break. She found Mintel near the well, smoking his pipe and reading in the light of a single candle. "You'll ruin what's left of your eyesight, reading like that," she told him with mock sternness.

He grinned at her, showing his six remaining teeth. "There's not much left to ruin. You look like you have questions, child."

"I always have questions," she said brightly. "Who is Shendla?" The old man chuckled softly. "What? What's funny?"

"She is not his lover, if that is what you want to know," he said with an amused chortle.

She frowned at him. "That was not _specifically_ what I wanted to know, no. Why should I care if she's his lover or not?" Her eyes widened in sudden realisation. "Mintel!" she said, truly offended now. "Are you insane? Light burn you, I don't care about him!" she told him fiercely. It wasn't the first time the _abrishi_ had made such allusions, and she had only been here for a few days. Why would he ever think that? "I'm just curious about her, that's all. She spent her whole time here staring at me, and I'd like to know why."

"It's a shame, you would be good for him," he said with yet another guffaw when he saw her outraged stare. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. Shendla is a scholar with great knowledge of the history of our land. She is in charge of the archives in the Library."

"Why would Bao need to keep a librarian at his side at all times?"

"I believe he is trying to find a particular artefact, or perhaps several artefacts, and he and Shendla are working together to localise them," Mintel replied.

"What kind of artefact?" It had to be an _angreal_ or a _ter'angreal_ , most likely, although why Demandred thought he could find anything useful in this Light-forsaken land was beyond her.

"I'm not sure. It seems he has managed to acquire part of it a few months ago, just before the Revolt, but he appeared quite… disappointed… when he found it." The hesitation seemed to imply that he had been furious and enraged rather than disappointed. But what kind of artefact could be separated into several pieces?

"What was it, the part he found?" Mintel shook his head. He didn't know. "What happened exactly? Why was there a rebellion?"

"Not just a rebellion, a revolution," he corrected her. "Bao wished to penetrate inside the Grand Blessed Citadel to obtain this object. We accompanied him to Kigali, the northernmost city on the side of the Aiel Waste. The mass execution was scheduled at noon that day. Fourteen slaves were to be hanged."

"Why? Were they criminals?"

The old man shook his head. "Not criminals. Slaves." He looked up at her with a sad smile. "There is much you do not yet know about our customs, _mala_." She wasn't sure what the word meant in _isleh_ , but in the Old Tongue, it would translate to something like 'daughter', with a denotation of importance. It was probably a term used by the _abrishi_ toward younger people, since he called the boys – as well as Bao – either 'son' or 'child' or their Ancient equivalents. "Mass executions take place – or they did, before Bao outlawed them – on the Feast of All Hallowed Ancestors. They served as a reminder to the other slaves that they must not attempt to rise against their bett… against the people who owned them."

Against their betters, he had been about to say. She still had trouble coming to terms with slavery and all it entailed. It was a concept she had never been confronted with before, and one she could not comprehend. Demandred may be what he was, but she supported his decision to render it illegal, at least. "Are you saying," she asked Mintel with mounting horror, "that every year, they simply pick some slaves at random and hang them just for show?"

Mintel sighed deeply. "Yes. The guards would choose seven women and seven men, at random, as you say, and all the other slaves would be assembled to witness the hanging. Bao reacted in the same repulsed manner when he found out, you know. You and he are not as dissimilar as you seem to think, _mala_ ," he went on idly.

She let that last remark slide. Light, but the old man could be stubborn. "But why?" she asked instead. "Were there many attempts at rebellion that they would need to remind them every year?"

"Only one, six hundred years ago, as far as I know. Shendla may be able to tell you more."

Only one attempt in six centuries, and they still worried about an uprising. Well, in the end, it seemed they had gotten one. "I assume Bao freed the slaves and prevented their execution, somehow," she said.

Mintel nodded. "Bao was beside himself when he finally came out of the Citadel. He saw the gallows, blasted them apart, killed the executioner and the guards, thus revealing his ability to channel to all. The slaves… They were waiting for this," the _abrishi_ went on. "For something like this. It is mentioned in the Prophecies. _'There will come a man who will sow chaos and dissension, and sever all bonds, breaking all men free of fate's chains.'_ "

"Prophecies?" she repeated with a frown. "You mean the Prophecies of the Dragon?"

The old man shook his head. "Our prophecies are not yours, _ulikar_." That meant 'outsider', Neya knew. It was one of the few words of the _isleh_ language she had picked up since her arrival, mainly because Kal used it so often to address her. It was the first time Mintel had employed it, however. "But if you want to learn more, you must ask Shendla. It is her… area of expertise."

"And the female Ayyad? What's their part in all this?" Neya asked. If Shendla wasn't one of them, Neya had yet to meet one, which often caused her to wonder why Bao had bothered to give her the necklace _ter'angreal_ that concealed her ability to channel.

"The Revolt put the higher spheres into turmoil. Bao declared all slaves freed, men and women and children and they all turned against their former masters. It was bloody. Bao put an end to the carnage after a few weeks by uniting both sides, the Freed on one hand and the leaders of the nation, the female Ayyad, on the other."

"The Ayyad are leaders of Shara? I thought it was the… Sh'botay?" She wasn't sure of the name, or title, or whatever it was.

Mintel barked a rough laugh. "They are purely ornamental, the Sh'botay and his consort, or the Sh'boan and hers. The female Ayyad rule over Shara as surely as the sun rises in the east. Have you not wondered why the Sh'botay or Sh'boan dies after seven years of reign?"

"The Will of the Pattern?" She'd heard or read that somewhere. "But it makes much more sense that the Ayyad orchestrate it," she granted. "But why? And why have they suddenly removed them altogether?" The latest Sh'botay and his consort had vanished weeks ago.

"I do not believe it was the work of the Ayyad. Strange things are happening. The Dragon has been Reborn, a Wyld has been chosen, the Prophecies are becoming reality. Both ours and yours, it seems," he added thoughtfully.

She chewed on that for a long time. She wondered if she could lay her hands on these Sharan prophecies somehow. Demandred was clearly using them to his advantage, manipulating the Sharans into believing he was their… Wyld. Was he supposed to be their saviour, or something like that?

Light. Rand probably had no idea where Demandred had established himself, and here he was, gathering an entire nation to fight for the Shadow in the Last Battle. She had to warn him somehow, or disrupt Demandred's plans, if she could. "Mintel, what happens to the channelers who are not born of the Ayyad?" she asked abruptly. She had almost forgotten about that.

"The females are brought to the Ayyad, to serve them as slaves. They are not considered well-bred, you see, so they cannot be allowed to channel or to hold high offices, unlike the other Ayyad. It is believed that they are cursed." Pretty much what she'd expected. Sharans held to some truly barbaric beliefs. She braced herself for the rest. "The males are severed and executed on sight by the authorities, although it rarely comes to that."

"Why is that?" she asked with a scowl.

"Family and friends who discover a male channeler among them will usually take care of the matter themselves." She gaped at that. It was even worse than she had thought. "It is customary," the old man went on conversationally. "It is considered bad luck and worse to be acquainted to a male channeler in any way. People will therefore dispose of these poor souls swiftly and as discreetly as possible."

Neya was shaking her head in disbelief. _Then again_ , she thought, _is the Red Ajah's way preferable? The men are stilled, not killed, but is it really a kinder fate?_ She thought of Mazrim and his little vials of poison. _A mercy_ , he had told her. Just because the Sharan way was not the one she was used to, meant it was worse. Maybe there simply was no good or bad way to deal with this.


	42. Some of us still dream of living

He was still considering whether he should pretend to be sick to avoid his chores or not when the new bloke finally arrived. Kal was skilled in many areas, but teaching was clearly not one of them, and Neya seemed to take a perverse pleasure in appointing him to dispense lessons to the younger kids. She claimed it would teach him to be more patient.

Well, he didn't want to be patient. He had spent his entire existence working for the benefit of others, and he was determined to enjoy what life he had left. He could just leave, of course – Bao said they were free to go at any time – but he couldn't just leave Abrazo behind, and taking him along would be a hindrance at best. In short, he was stuck here. For the time being, anyway.

"You're Torn?" he asked the newcomer. He was not much taller than Kalayaan himself, although much more muscular. His skin was a lighter shade than his own, but his hair was surprisingly pale. He wore his beard in two thick, knotted braids, hanging down from either cheek. He appeared to be in his thirties.

The older man grinned widely. "Aye. I was told to find Neya?"

Kal nodded tersely. "I'll take you to her."

They made their way through the tiny Ayyad encampment, which was part of the much larger camp the Freed had set across the valley. More former slaves still arrived every day, from all over the land. News did not travel fast in these parts. Likely, some areas weren't yet aware of the abrupt disappearance of the Sh'botay, or even of the Revolt, although it had taken place months ago. Already, there were thousands of people gathered here, men and women, and not a few children.

"I didn't catch your name, Ayyad," Torn said after a time of walking in silence.

"Kalayaan," he muttered tersely. He hated small talk and people who talked just to make conversation.

"Like the main character in that children's book, _Wild Tales_?"

Now that was unusual. Few of the Freed could read, except for those whose occupation required it. "Yes, that's where I got the inspiration," he replied. "Have you read it?"

"Yeah, I like to read when I can, even though I'm a slow reader," Torn admitted.

Slow or not, that was better than most people Kal knew. "I've got a few books. We could trade, if you have any."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. I've been re-reading the same ones for the past fifteen years or so. It'd be good to have some new material. Books ain't easy to come by," he said sadly.

"Tell me about it," Kal concurred with a sigh. The things he'd had to do for these books… But they had been worth the trouble. Books allowed him to escape his shitty life whenever he wanted – or needed – to. "How's it going with the Freed?" he found himself asking. "Are they settling in?"

Torn snorted. "It's a flaming mess, let me tell you. Most of them can't adjust."

"Adjust to what?" Kal asked with a frown.

"Freedom," Torn explained. "The ones who were enslaved later in life have no problem whatsoever. Those have departed already, gone the moment Bao told them they were free to go. But the others, those who were born into slavery…" He trailed off with a shrug. "They've never known anything else. It's almost as though they were afraid to be their own person, or think for themselves. Most of them still ask permission to even go to the bloody latrines," he went on with a grimace.

"Do you think Bao made a mistake in releasing them?" Kal asked.

"Not at all, not at all," Torn said. "It will take time, that's for sure, but it was the right thing to do. We're centuries behind, compared to the bloody Westlands," he stated. "Bao will propel us forward in no time, though, see if he don't."

Just when he'd started to like the other man, he proved to be just another sheep mindlessly praising the mighty Bao. What was wrong with these people? No _ulikar_ should have the right to rule in Shara, and it was ludicrous to believe Bao could be the Wyld. Was Kal the only one who saw him for what he truly was? Bao was just another petty tyrant, a power-hungry, ambitious, greedy man intent on preying on the weak and ignorant. He was manipulative, deceiving, and he thought too highly of himself. Of course, considering the way everyone behaved around him, it was no wonder Bao believed himself Kongsidi made flesh. At least Neya seemed aware of the problem. He wasn't sure what they could do about it, however. Even if they managed to convince other people that he had to be removed, Bao was a dangerous man, and that was without even taking his channeling abilities into account.

Torn appeared to notice his sudden silence. "You don't like him much, do you?" Kal let out a noncommittal grunt. "He's not all that bad, really, although not what I expected, I'll admit. You'd think the saviour of our people would _be_ one of our people, wouldn't you?" He chuckled quietly. "And he's so flaming serious."

"I don't trust people who have no sense of humour," Kal muttered. One of his caretakers had been such a man. Kal still had nightmares involving him.

"Nor should you," Torn said wisely. "But I think he has one, actually. He seems able to comprehend jokes, in any case. He just doesn't react to them. Well, he must have a lot on his mind, what with being the flaming Wyld and dealing with bloody Galbrait, among other things."

"He's not the Wyld yet," Kal pointed out. He was convinced that the Revolt had been an accident, a chance happening. Bao had been at the right place, at the right moment. It didn't mean anything. No _ulikar_ could hope to accomplish the rest of the Prophecies. Bao would never come out alive of the Hearttomb.

"True. He will be, though. Soon enough." He laughed when he saw Kal's expression. "I used to think like you. But Shendla… Do you know her?" Kal nodded. He had met her on a few occasions, although they had never actually talked. "She's a friend of mine. We've known each other a long time. I think she's right about him. He really is the one."

As far as Kal could tell, Shendla was enthralled by Bao and couldn't be trusted. He wasn't about to say that to Torn, however, not if she was his 'friend', so he decided to change the subject. "You don't look like a slave," Kal told him. "You weren't born one, were you?"

"Nah, I wasn't. I was a mercenary, working along the coast." 'The coast' usually referred to the lands in the Far East, near the Morenal Ocean. The people who lived there were part of Shara in name only; he doubted any of them knew the name of the most recent Sh'botay. At least, that was what Mintel said. The _abrishi_ seemed to have travelled a lot in his younger years. In any case, there was always fighting in those parts, and therefore plenty of work to be found for mercenaries. "I was enslaved four years ago, by some flaming noble who decided to take an interest in one of the iron mines over there. He brought a whole bloody army with him, the blasted son of a camel. Killed most everyone in our band, then sold the rest of us off to an acquaintance of his in the West. Made me work as a flaming porter at the Citadel. Me, a porter!" he said, spitting on the ground. That would explain why he approved of Bao's actions. The Citadel had been the first target of the Revolt.

"Why did Bao send you to us, exactly?" Neya had received a message earlier this morning, but all it said was to expect someone named Torn.

"Shendla sent me, actually. She wants me to keep an eye on things. She's… ah… intrigued by the girl, the other _ulikar_ ," he replied carefully.

Why would Shendla send someone to spy on them? They weren't doing anything out of the ordinary. They spent most of their time giving lessons to the younger Ayyad. No one here was involved in matters of politics or anything even remotely interesting. Not for the first time, Kal wondered why Neya was here at all. Bao could have appointed anyone in her stead, any Sharan. Not that she bothered Kal; she was good at what she did, he had to give her that, and she was a fast learner. She was already fluent in their dialect and Mintel was teaching her _isleh_. But why bring someone from the other side of the world, someone so young and inexperienced? Not to mention that she clearly didn't think much of Bao. It simply didn't make sense. Then again, _ulikar_ rarely made sense.

They were nearing her tent when Neya came out of it. "Kal! I was looking for you. Aren't you supposed to be with your group?" she asked him.

"I was just on my way there, but then this one arrived," he said, cocking his head toward Torn. "That's the man we were told to expect."

Neya smiled at the former mercenary. "Hey, I'm Neya," she told him, thrusting her hand forward in that odd manner she had. Torn looked at it in bewilderment. "Oh, sorry. Habit," Neya explained, letting her hand drop. "Why are you here? The message didn't say."

"I'm just here to help, however I can," he replied smoothly. "Shendla feels that you might be a little overwhelmed, since it's just the three of you to look after the whole bloody lot of them."

Neya frowned at him. "Shendla sent you? Does Bao know about it?"

Torn shrugged. "Probably. I didn't inquire."

Neya studied him a moment longer before she spoke again. "Can you read?" Torn nodded. "Then we'll split them into another group and you can teach them. I assume you can use that sword as well?" she asked, pointing at the large double-edged sword he carried on his back. Torn nodded once more. "Good. I need someone to practice with, and we can start teaching the boys as well," she said with a delighted grin. "I didn't know you were going to stay, however. We'll have to find a tent to accommodate you."

"He can stay in mine," Kal blurted out. What was wrong with him? He treasured the peace and quiet of his tent, and now he was inviting someone to share it with him? Even Abe didn't sleep there! "I mean," he went on quickly, "until we find somewhere else for you to sleep."

Neya snorted. "How generous of you," she said sweetly. "It's just for a day or two," she added with an apologetic smile in Torn's direction.

"I've slept in worse conditions," the Freed assured her.

"I'll take your group," Neya told Kal with a resigned sigh. "Just show him around and help him settle down, will you?" Without waiting for an answer, she walked away to attend to her lesson.

"Her accent is decidedly odd," Torn pointed out, "but she's doing well. I remember Bao during his first weeks here," he went on with a chuckle. "I could barely make out the bloody words coming out of him."

"You've known him since he first came here?" Kal asked with a frown. "I thought you were at the Citadel."

"Oh no, no. I was a slave only for a year or so, thank Kongsidi. Shendla works in the Library, see? It's right next to the Citadel. She set me free when she found out I was there. I hadn't seen her in years, but she owed me."

"She bought your freedom?" How could she possibly afford that? Buying a slave's freedom cost even more than the slave himself, because you had to pay extra for the free labour no one would benefit from any longer. Only the wealthiest members of the affluent classes could afford that, as far as Kal knew, and even when they could afford it, they rarely bothered.

"She made some kind of deal with my owner," Torn explained. "At least, that's what she told me when I asked. The man's rotting corpse was found a few days later," he went on conversationally. _So_ , Kal thought, _the woman is indeed as dangerous as she appears_. _No wonder Bao keeps her around._ "Anyway, we were both going to the Capital and we met Mintel and Bao along the way. He had just arrived, though I'm not sure how he got here exactly. He said he'd been traded near the western border, but he doesn't look like a man who'd let himself be taken, even by flaming Aiel. Then again, why would anyone pretend to be a bloody slave?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know, but he's clearly up to something, and I'm not talking about the Prophecies. There's something off about the man, I'm telling you," Kal said. "I don't like it."

Torn laughed it off. "Don't overthink it, man. He's an _ulikar_ and a flaming channeler. He's not bloody likely to be sane." He stopped abruptly, glancing at Kal. "Ahem… Sorry about that." Kal shrugged unconcernedly. He knew the fate that awaited him. He had made his peace with it a long time ago. "Anyway, what's the worst thing that could happen?"


	43. I am burdened with glorious purpose

At this distance, she couldn't feel much coming from Mazrim through the bond. She received some spikes, mainly of anger and rage, but they were rare and faint. She tried to send positive emotions from her end, but there was no telling if he felt them or not. She did that every day in the beginning, but after a while it felt more and more pointless. He never returned anything, or maybe he couldn't. Either way, she gave up after a few weeks. She was on her own; he wouldn't come to her rescue. Nobody would. Nobody ever did.

After his first visit, Bao came back only occasionally, and he never stayed more than a few minutes, which suited her just fine. Everything was working out incredibly well. It had been difficult at first, to make the boys understand what she wanted with them. They had lived their whole lives without bothering with speech or manners or hygiene and it took a while to convince them to learn. It became a lot easier once they acquired rudiments of the Sharan dialect, which she had decided to teach them. There didn't seem any point in teaching them the Common Tongue; rare were the people who spoke it in these parts. Most of them progressed slowly but steadily, and a handful proved to be above average. Between sword practice and lessons and chores, time flew by.

Three weeks after his first visit, Bao made another appearance. He seemed irate, and he was alone, this time. He walked right up to her and commanded her to follow in her tent. "What do you know of al'Thor's plan to cleanse _saidin_?" he demanded before she was fully settled on the ground.

She stared up at him in confusion. "Cleanse _saidin_? He never said anything about that. Is it even possible?" she asked sceptically.

He scowled darkly. "It should not be. He intends to use the Choedan Kal, with the help of a female channeler."

He had lost her completely. Choedan Kal? What in the Pit of Doom was that? "And what exactly am I supposed to do about that?" she asked faintly.

"He never mentioned it to you?" She shook her head. "Do you know who might be strong enough to assist him by using a female _sa'angreal_?"

"No, I don't. How would I know? Bao, he never told me anything about his plans or his intentions. And I have no idea what a… Choedan Kal… is," she told him earnestly.

He fixed his angry eyes on her for a long time, his mouth set in a tight line. She did her best not to shudder or drop her gaze and almost succeeded. "Darkness within!" she heard him mutter under his breath.

The words were out before she could swallow them back. "Tsk, language." She did swallow when he sent a murderous glare in her direction. Better to change the topic. "If you don't think it's possible, why are you so worried about it?"

"Because using the Choedan Kal to attempt this would require amounts of Power that have never been wielded in living memory. Neither _sa'angreal_ was ever tested. It was unanimously agreed that they were too dangerous. Fool boy!" he said scornfully. "He could break the world before the Last Battle even begins!" He stood up angrily and started pacing in the tiny space of her tent.

Well, that would be a bother, she had to admit. She had to calm him down before he did something rash to ease his rage. "Can I help in any way?" Probably not, but it cost nothing to ask.

"Little girl," he said condescendingly, "you can barely channel to start a fire. What do you think you could possibly do about this?"

"Well, you're the one who came to me with this," she replied crossly. "And whatever happened to calling people by their first names?" Being irritated was no excuse to be rude, her mother always said.

He gave her another baleful glare. "Watch your tone."

"Why do I have to watch what I say? Torn says worse things to you all the time and you never scold him." It seemed hardly fair. The man was even allowed to curse!

"Torn has pledged his life to me," Bao said flatly.

"You want me to pledge myself to you? I would, you know. You're not as bad as all that. If your intent truly was to save the world, as they all seem to believe, I really would do it. But I don't think that's what you have in mind, is it?" she said wryly.

"I will do better than that," he replied softly. His anger was fading slowly and he even stopped pacing. "I will cleanse this pathetic world, I will purge it with fire, and from its ashes I will build a new world. A new Age will dawn, one that will make the Age of Legends pale in comparison." His dark eyes shone with fervour.

 _Oh, so he_ is _mad_ , she thought faintly. And he had seemed so lucid – at least compared to Ishamael and Lanfear. She cleared her throat. "Is that so?" she said guardedly.

"It was promised," he murmured.

"By the… Great Lord," she said dubiously.

"You must not force yourself to use that term, if you do not wish to. It matters little."

"So the Dark One promised you that you could rule this new world if you destroyed Rand and ensured that the Shadow won the Last Battle," she summed up. "But how can you believe anything it says? It is called the Father of Lies for a reason." Everyone always referred to the Dark One as if it were male, but she didn't think the Dark One was supposed to have a gender. It seemed more logical to remain neutral.

Bao was silent for a long time, eyeing her thoughtfully. "If the Great Lord should decide to break his word, I shall _take_ what was promised. What is rightfully mine," he said fiercely.

"That's not what I meant," she explained. Why was she even bothering to reason with him? But she had started the debate now, and she would see this through. "I just don't think there will _be_ a world to rule if the Dark One has its way. Why would it allow you or anyone else to live once it has obtained what it wants? It is the Lord of the Grave, the Destroyer of Light. Why should it permit you to create a bright new world, when all it wants is death and darkness and chaos? How can any of you be so naive as to actually believe anything it says?" she asked once more. "Has the promise of power and immortality rendered you all stupid?" It was so clear to her; she couldn't understand how he did not see it. She realised she was far off-limits – Light, had she really just called him stupid? – but she didn't care. It was too late, in any case.

He had crouched in front of her when she began ranting. His face was absolutely still; a skull would have been more expressive. "You have some valid points," he said dispassionately as he rose to his feet and exited the tent. She stared after him with her mouth hanging open.


	44. The Force is strong with this one

She had finally done it. She had found a way to Heal the madness in male channelers.

Any other day, this would have been considered a miraculous accomplishment but, in light of recent events – namely, Rand's performance with the Choedan Kal – it appeared almost mundane. Still, she was quite pleased with herself. It had not been a complete waste of time in any case; the madness that was already corrupting a few of the male Ayyad hadn't magically disappeared after Rand's exploit.

Kalayaan was the first to suggest she try it, after she recounted to him the experiments she'd conducted at the Black Tower a few months ago. She had Delved him but, thankfully, she hadn't found a single dark patch in his brain. He had almost begged her to check on Abrazo as well, because Kal was convinced that it was the reason the older boy was slow-witted, even though Neya explained that the madness was unlikely to have appeared when he was a child. She didn't know that it was impossible, but it was improbable. Upon Delving Abe, she had found a large black web located in his temporal lobe, almost at the same spot Arlen had had his. That might at least explain why he was having such a hard time learning how to speak.

Neya had been reluctant to attempt any actual Healing, for the same reasons as before, but Kal insisted that it could hardly make him worse in any case. That had not been particularly reassuring, but she had let him convince her.

After a more thorough Delving, she realised that there were tiny thorns that seemed to hold the web together. She removed them, one by one, slowly and cautiously. She had to Heal the needle-thin pricks caused by the thorns in Abe's brain as she went along, and she had to keep the other thorns from re-entering, but in the end she managed to extract every single one of them. As she pulled out the last one, the web had… trembled… then vanished altogether.

Abe had stared at her blankly with his mouth hanging open, and she had been afraid that she had indeed managed to make it even worse, but a bright smile had suddenly lit up his face and he had lifted her off her feet, crushing her in his arms. Kal almost had to pry her out of his grip, although he was laughing the whole time. It wasn't clear exactly what had been the manifestation of madness in the young Ayyad, but he seemed happy to be rid of it in any case. Unfortunately, as Neya had feared, it hadn't made him any less dull. Kalayaan didn't seem to care, however, and neither did Abe.

She set to Delve every Ayyad for the taint's corruption that very day, although it took her the better part of three days to see the task through. She had begun with the handful of boys who could already channel; only seven of them had exhibited a dark patch. Unsure whether those who hadn't displayed any signs of channeling could have been touched by the madness, she had decided that it would be safer to make certain they were all clear. She found a surprisingly dense network in the brain of a boy of fourteen, although he showed no outward sign of being afflicted in any way. Seven more boys were treated by her that day. The rest of them appeared perfectly healthy, although she would check them again if they proved able to wield _saidin_ , just in case.

She felt incredibly gratified by her discovery. Those boys she Healed would have a normal life and grow old without fear of destroying everyone they loved. That was all she had ever wanted to do. She felt like she had fulfilled her mission in life. It was a grand feeling.

And Rand's astonishing feat set her spirits even higher. No male channeler would ever need fear the taint again, bless the man.

She had expected Bao to be righteously furious when he came to announce it, but the Forsaken had simply gathered the boys and explained what happened, never once mentioning Rand. Obviously, everyone cheered him as if he'd done it all himself, cries of _Glory to the Wyld!_ echoing throughout the crowd.

He met her in her tent afterward, his face expressionless. Either he was seething inwardly and uncommonly apt at concealing it or he really didn't care, unlikely as it seemed. Or maybe he cared about what it meant for the Ayyad and was pleased for them? That was almost as inconceivable.

She didn't know exactly what had happened in the West that day. She had sensed it, of course; every channeler in the world must have been able to feel the prodigious amounts of the One Power being wielded. But Bao hadn't given any details regarding the event. All she knew was that Rand and Nynaeve – of course it would be her; hadn't Neya said she could Heal anything if she put her mind to it? – had channeled through the male and female Choedan Kal and somehow cleansed the taint, destroying the ancient, cursed city of Aridhol and one of the _sa'angreal_ in the process. She thought Bao and the other Forsaken must have at least tried to stop them. She couldn't think of a reason why they would allow this to happen without intervening. It was plain, however, that they had failed.

And yet Bao remained absolutely impassive as he recounted it. She didn't press him for details; if he'd wanted her to know more, he would have told her. "I am going to require your assistance to teach a short lesson to the channelers today," he told her afterward. "I need them to be able to form a circle."

"A circle?" she repeated with a frown. "I don't even know what that is, and you can't show me how it's done. How can I assist if I don't know how to do it myself?"

"Someone will come along to demonstrate, one of the female Ayyad's servants."

"If she knows how to do it, why do I need to assist you? Also, Mintel said some of them could channel, but that they weren't allowed to. And I thought you had abolished slavery?" She realised she was asking a lot of questions, but she always took the opportunity of his visits to do just that. Indeed, he rarely seemed to mind and usually answered truthfully – as far as she could tell.

"She is not a slave, she is a servant. There is a difference," he said quietly. "And I told you before that my alliance with the Ayyad is a delicate one. They do not answer to me, not yet. This girl has been… lent to me… for the occasion, but I need another female channeler for the demonstration."

"But what's a circle?" she asked again.

"That is what we call the joining of two or more channelers to increase their strength in the Power. Men cannot form a circle on their own, however," he explained patiently. Elan had always been slightly pedantic when he explained these things, and Jay was often downright disdainful of her ignorance, but Bao endured her torrents of questions with impressive self-control.

"But I thought I wasn't supposed to reveal my ability to channel to the female Ayyad?"

"The girl is a Friend of the Dark," he told her. "She serves me, before she serves them."

Ah. She wasn't sure how she felt at having to work with a Darkfriend. Then again, she was having a chat with one of the Forsaken; it couldn't get much worse than that. She shrugged lightly. "Fine. Let's make a circle." Bao nodded and they made their way back to the training yard.

While Bao briefly Traveled back to the Capital to fetch the Darkfriend, Neya assembled the boys who could channel. She was explaining what they were about to do, the little she knew, when Bao came back with a willowy, dark-skinned woman in her late twenties. He introduced her as Saseko. Everyone was now fluent enough in the Sharan dialect to understand her, which would simplify things a lot, since Bao wouldn't have to translate everything the Darkfriend said. Bao began by demonstrating with Saseko and then asked Neya to join them. It was easy enough, once you picked up the trick.

The theory behind circles was more complicated than she'd assumed, however. There were limitations and exceptions; as it was, with only two women, they couldn't form a circle of more than four channelers. They practiced for an hour, until every boy could do it easily, Abe included. It was remarkable how quickly he picked up this sort of things, when he had difficulty even dressing himself sometimes.

All in all, it seemed increasingly obvious to Neya that Bao needed the female Ayyad more than he let on. This shaky alliance he'd established had to be strengthened if he hoped to reach a full circle of seventy-two, which seemed to be his ultimate objective – or at least one of his objectives. Of course, if he intended to lead the whole nation to fight in the Last Battle, he would also need the Ayyad and their prevailing authority over matters of state and war. Indeed, with the Sh'botay and his consort gone, they had made it plain that they now ruled Shara in all but name, Wyld or no Wyld. They claimed it wasn't his place to rule. His sole purpose, they said, was to unite the people, as was mentioned in the Prophecies. It was clear to Neya that Bao wouldn't let that stand, however. She wondered how he was going to bend them without breaking them. It seemed unlikely that the Ayyad – whom Neya thought of as the Aes Sedai of the East – would relinquish their newfound supremacy without a fight.


	45. I'm the king of the world

Bao had explained the plan in meticulous details. It was all very clear and practical, and it left no room for improvisation, but Neya was increasingly nervous as they approached the large gilded doors. So many things could go wrong, and yet Bao radiated confidence. It was just the two of them. Shendla and Mintel had been sent back to the camp after they had reviewed the plan one last time.

Their footsteps echoed in the vast halls of the Glorious Temple of Wisdom, the palace from where the Ayyad ruled Shara, as they always had. They had a knack for naming buildings, the Sharans did. They were going to attend the monthly meeting that gathered the most preeminent Ayyad. There were seven of them, although the meeting was customarily attended by all Ayyad present in the city at the time. These seven members were leaders in their own right, each overseeing a specific field, like the economy or matters of law and order. At their head stood Galbrait, the Wisest and Foremost. The fact that there were seven leaders, dominated by a single figure of authority, reminded her of the White Tower, which placed the Amyrlin Seat above the seven Ajahs, each with its specific mission and purpose.

Bao had received no invitation to this meeting. In fact, men were not allowed inside the Temple, least of all men who could channel. But Bao was the Wyld – or would be, when he accomplished the remaining Prophecies – and nobody halted them. He opened the doors without bothering to knock.

There were at least thirty women present inside the lavish reception room. Galbrait herself, tall and imposing, sat rigidly on the dais in an ornate throne that appeared to be made of ivory. Just below her, seven women sat in elegantly carved chairs of contrasting mahogany. Each one of them wore an opulent dress of a different colour. Galbrait's was white and gold. The other, lesser Ayyad were placed on simple chairs that faced their leaders. They all turned to stare at the intruders with a puzzled look on their faces.

The seven glared at the newcomers with open outrage. Galbrait stood up angrily and stalked toward Bao as he made his way to her. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked imperiously. She spoke in the crisp Sharan dialect that was used by the nobility and therefore mainly employed in the Capital. Thankfully, it wasn't too different from the dialect the rest of the population used. "You have no place here, Bao. You cannot–"

He didn't let her finish. Demandred was not a man to allow even a bit of theatrical drama to come between him and his objective. Hands raised, he weaved something that caused the Wisest and Foremost to stumble and fall heavily on the smooth marble floor. She groaned in agony. The others stood stock still, gaping at them in stupor. Before anyone could react, Bao sent another weave in Galbrait's direction. "You leave me no other choice, Galbrait. I have no more time for your political manoeuvres and mind games. If you will not bend, I will bend you." The woman's back arched under the sudden pain and she let out a strident howl. The assembly watched in horrified silence as Bao cut off the woman's arm with a sword of fire summoned with _saidin_. Galbrait's shriek broke off abruptly as she stared at the stump and the blood that was spilling on the immaculate floor. "Submit to me now, and I will be merciful. I will make you whole again. You may even retain your position. Refuse, and I will cut through every single woman in this room, after I am done with you."

Neya couldn't understand why none of the other women moved. Obviously, their morning had taken on an unexpected turn, and it was a rather ghastly sight, but why weren't they trying to fight back, to help? They simply stood there, waiting for events to unfold. They might have overthrown Bao and Neya, had they tried, although Bao had a small _angreal_ and was already linked to her. Didn't they know how to form a circle? Or maybe they weren't supposed to do anything without Galbrait's permission? That would be ridiculous. Surely the circumstances were dire enough to bypass that particular condition. In any case, against Neya's expectations, all was thus far unfolding exactly as Shendla had predicted.

If Galbrait didn't react soon, however, she would be beyond saving. Finally, the Ayyad raised her eyes to meet Bao's and nodded faintly. That was her cue. She had to act quickly now. Crouching beside the older woman, she picked up the severed arm and held it to her shoulder. She had done this before, twice already. Provided with a clean cut, she should be able to knit the arm back together with the shoulder. It took a moment, but she managed. Just. It had been a close shave, just as she'd feared.

When Neya was done, Galbrait looked at her arm as if she'd never seen it before, slowly flexing her hand, carefully moving her shoulder around in its socket. She looked up at Neya in wonder, and Bao picked that moment to unclasp her necklace, the _ter'angreal_ he had given her on her very first day. Galbrait let out a weak whimper and bowed her head dejectedly. As one, the other women knelt down, facing her and Bao. Neya wasn't sure whom they were kneeling to.

She couldn't understand why they were so impressed, all of a sudden. Galbrait herself was quite powerful, almost as strong as Egwene, and the other leaders were not far behind.

"You will keep your positions, all of you," Bao told the assembled Ayyad, interrupting Neya's train of thoughts. "Nothing will change, but for the fact that you are now under my authority. I declare myself King of Shara, and I expect your full support and unconditional loyalty," Bao went on quietly, his face and voice devoid of emotion as he surveyed the kneeling women. Nobody spoke, and he must have taken that as their assent. Without another word, he turned to leave. Neya hurried after him. Was that all? It had all worked out a lot better than she'd anticipated. And if it was so easy, why hadn't he done it before?

Bao opened a gateway just outside the room and took them back to his own bedchamber, on the other side of the city. He had taken up residence in the former palace of the Sh'botay, although not in his room. She wasn't sure what the building was called, but it probably had an exaggeratedly snobbish sound to it. It was the place where she had first arrived, almost two months ago. She had, however, never seen it in its entirety.

It was smaller and plainer than the Ayyad's meeting chamber, but the furniture was refined and the few colourful paintings were tasteful. There was an immense canopy bed against the wall opposite the balcony and a sort of door that seemed made of paper led to what had to be a private bathroom. She yearned for a long, warm bath, but she knew better than to ask. Come to think of it, it was odd that Bao hadn't brought her back to the Ayyad encampment right away. She turned to face him and opened her mouth to enquire, but he didn't leave her a chance to speak.

Pushing her against the wall, he proceeded to tear her blouse off. She stared at him in horror for half a second before trying to disentangle herself from him. It wouldn't do; he was much too strong. Feeling panic rising, she did the first thing she could think of. Her fist connected with his nose with a resounding crack and blood spurted out of his nostrils. She braced herself, half-expecting him to strike her back, but he barely flinched. He had started to unlace her breeches, his breath coming out rapidly. _What in the Pit of–_

If she could have slapped herself, she would have. She could channel, for crying out loud! Embracing _saidar_ , she weaved without thinking and threw him across the room with a blast of Air. He landed on the floor near the bed, hard, but was already getting back to his feet before she could properly consider her next move. Hastily, she fastened another weave of Air to hold his legs and arms, pinning him down on the floor. What was she supposed to do now? She didn't even know how to shield other channelers. What madness had taken him?

She walked up to him cautiously and crouched beside him, at a safe distance. _I could kill him._ _It would be the easiest thing in the world, restrained as he is._ The thought crossed her mind but found no anchor there. She knew she couldn't kill someone in cold blood like that, not even him, not even to save the world. His dark eyes were gazing at her hungrily. _Was_ he mad?

 _Beautiful is what he is_ , a tiny part of her brain whispered.

If she did this, there would be no going back, she knew. If there was any doubt as to whether she should be considered a Darkfriend, it would dissipate the moment she released him. She really ought to kill him, burn her.

In the end, the choice was made for her. Somehow, he unravelled the bonds he couldn't see. He stood, grabbing her up with him, and forced her down on the bed. He crawled on top of her and she tried to remain as still as she could. Maybe that would dampen his enthusiasm. "Fight me," he growled in her ear. "Hurt me." She shivered slightly at the sheer proximity of him. Surely he didn't mean–

That was exactly what he meant.


	46. These violent delights

Bao lay in the semi-darkness, eyes closed. He was not asleep; he rarely slept. He felt unusually content.

What happened earlier had been Shendla's idea. When he first arrived in Shara, she had been the second person to attach herself to him. Mintel had adopted him, as the old man called it, but that was different. Shendla was utterly devoted to him. She would jump off a cliff for him and never ask why, should he require it. He had taken to her right away. She was cunning, practical and intelligent, and she possessed the knowledge to help him find what he had come seeking in this land. He knew now where the second part of the artefact rested. He had simply needed to take care of the Ayyad situation before departing. In a few weeks, _D'jedt_ would be his.

They had been lovers for a time, but it had not lasted. They were not… compatible. She could not match his lust, although she had tried. They had abandoned the idea by joint agreement. Shendla had sworn to follow him nonetheless, as he had expected, and she held on to her word. She wanted to see him fulfil his destiny and she would do whatever she must to see it done.

He did not believe in their Prophecies, evidently, although he had to admit that the events that took place during his first months here were oddly coincidental. First, there was the Revolt, which he had unwittingly started and somehow ended up leading. Then, by freeing the slaves and gaining their loyalty, he had united the whole nation under him, although the Ayyad had not been particularly forthcoming about it. He had known even then that it would take drastic measures to bind them to his will.

All things considered, maybe he was indeed their Wyld. It would be fitting: he was the Dragon Slayer, and what better name to take for himself, he who would claim the life of Lews Therin Telamon, or Rand al'Thor, whichever he chose to call himself? In any event, it mattered little whether he truly was the Wyld or not. He would see the Dragon dead, once and for all.

Shendla had made it clear that he needed someone else to accomplish his mission. She hadn't been able to tell him who, not at first. A girl, she said. A Westerner, a Healer, a powerful servant of the Light. It had taken a while to decipher that one, but Taim had done the job for him when he unwillingly drew Bao's attention to his new conquest. The girl fit the description perfectly, although she could hardly be said to serve the Light, not anymore.

He was not sure what Shendla's special ability was. She was no channeler and it was therefore unlikely that she was a Dreamer or that she had the Foretelling. And yet this dying world was seeing the return of old Talents and new ones, like that of al'Thor's woman, Farshaw. Maybe Shendla's ability was similar; they had never really discussed it. In any case, she had been formal when she set sight on the girl: she was the one he had to keep close at hand.

Then she told him that he needed to be closer to her. That had been the day before; it was in fact what triggered the whole plan to begin with. He had been puzzled at first, but Shendla assured him that it was necessary and that the girl fancied him. He was used to women feeling that way toward him, but in this case it came as a surprise. She was very young, for one thing, and they were as different as two people could be – or so he thought. They should not have been compatible, no more than Shendla and he had been.

And yet here they were. It had been difficult to place himself at her mercy like that, even for such a short moment, but Shendla had been explicit: he had to let the girl come to him willingly. And she had, against all expectations. She had even seemed to enjoy it. He should have been gentler, he knew, at least in the beginning, but once they had left the Ayyad behind, once it was clear that he had succeeded, at long last, all he had wanted to do was to tear her clothes off and get her into bed. It was not just about the sex; he had other women at his disposal. There was something different about this girl, something that set her apart, as if she were not entirely human, or maybe _beyond_ human. He could not quite put his finger on it.

* * *

Neya woke up with the sun. For a moment, she couldn't remember why she was lying on such a soft, comfortable mattress. Then she realised Bao was asleep beside her, or at least she thought he was asleep. She rolled on her side gingerly and put a hand on his chest. He didn't react. He was incredibly muscular, she thought as she moved her hand over the scars on his abdomen. She wondered why he hadn't had them removed; with proper Healing, it would be a matter of seconds. Maybe he didn't trust anyone of this Age to Heal him. She was still idly tracing the marks when he spoke. "What are you doing?" he murmured with a distinctive twang. His nose had suffered more than she realised.

"Ah… nothing," she said, hastily removing her hand. She wasn't sure where they stood, after what happened the previous day. It had been the strangest experience. She had been afraid that he was going to hurt her, but that wasn't what he was after, although she would likely bruise a little. She had been reluctant at first, unwilling to cause pain. It stood against everything she believed in. It was surprising how similar the weaves she used to inflict pain were to the ones she employed to Heal. It was also strangely exhilarating.

He sat up abruptly. "We should take a bath," he announced matter-of-factly. He got out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. She stared after him with a small frown. _We?_ With a shrug she hauled herself almost reluctantly out of the spongy bed and followed him. He was already reclining in the pool, eyes closed. Apparently Sharans didn't use tubs; instead they built bath-sized pools in the floor. She had never tried one of these. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if he'd meant she was supposed to join him. "Get in," he told her without opening his eyes. She stepped in carefully and settled against him. The water was scalding, just as she liked it. He was more comfortable than she would have thought.

They lay there for a long time in silence. She could see the lacerations on his arms. Light, had she really done that? "Do you want me to Heal you?" she asked timidly. He didn't answer right away. Was he asleep again?

"Yes, please," he said eventually. It never failed to amuse her how polite and formal he was, even more so after last night.

"The older scars as well, or do you want to keep them?"

"You may remove it all. Leave only the marks on my hands," he told her.

"Why? What do they mean?" She had assumed they were simple slave tattoos, but they looked like nothing she had seen on the Freed or the Ayyad.

"They mark me as he who will fulfil the Prophecies."

The Wyld. She waited for more explanation, but nothing came, so she laid a hand on his arm and Delved him. _Blood and ashes!_ She had been much more heavy-handed than she thought. And he had never said anything, never cried out in pain. She removed her hand a short time later. He didn't say anything for a moment. "I believe you forgot something," he said in a heavily nasal voice.

"I didn't forget. You deserve that one," she replied smugly. He snorted softly. That would be the closest thing to a laugh she had ever heard from him.

"Should I Heal you as well?" he asked quietly. She nodded; she didn't hurt, but the bruises stood out against the paleness of her skin. He placed a hand on her stomach and she saw the bruises on her arms fade then disappear. He didn't remove his hand right away. "You are with child."

He said it so casually that she didn't register at first. "What?" she blurted out after a moment. "How is that even possible? We just–"

"Evidently, it is not my doing. I do not think any of the Chosen have the ability to conceive, in any case," he went on thoughtfully. "I cannot say how far along you are. Delving was never my specialty." How could he be so bloody impassive?

 _Blood and flaming ashes!_ She was so sure that the Finn had misled her, cheated her. It had been her one true request. Nynaeve had explained to her, maybe a year before Elan appeared in her life, that she could never bear children. Neya had just turned seventeen and, at the time, it didn't seem like such a tragedy. She hadn't understood then the chagrined look on the Wisdom's face, or Natti's tears when she told her later. She hadn't even tried to understand Nynaeve's technical details on what was wrong with her. All she knew was that she had never bled in her life and never would. At the time it seemed like a good thing.

She changed her mind after Elan died, although she couldn't say why, exactly. She reflected upon it a lot in the time she was locked up in Lanfear's dungeon. How sad it was that her family line would perish when she did – at the time, her death had seemed imminent. She had no other blood kin; she was the last al'Kane in the Two Rivers. When Mat told her about the _ter'angreal_ and the Eelfinn'sabilities, and knowing that the doorway would soon be taken to the White Tower, it had been all she could think of. She felt that she had to at least try. She was so sure that the bloody Foxes had deceived her, as they had Mat, especially considering how things turned out.

And now this. It could hardly have come at a worst time. The Last Battle loomed ahead like an ominous storm cloud and she was stuck in a faraway land with one of the Forsaken. And Mazrim… She wasn't sure what was going on with him. She hadn't felt anything through the bond in weeks now, good or bad. She knew he was alive, but that was all she could tell for sure. In any case, it seemed unlikely that she would ever see him again.

"You really did not know," Bao said softly. His hand hadn't moved. She could only shake her head in dismay. "I will ask one of the midwives to examine you."

This was too troubling. She would need some time alone to process the news. In the meantime, she decided to change to subject. "Why did you declare yourself king? Couldn't you become the new Sh'botay?"

"So they would have a good reason to attempt to remove me, seven years from now? I do not think so."

"You're the Wyld, they might have made an exception for you."

"They do not believe I am the Wyld and, in any case, I am not the Wyld yet," he told her. "Soon, but not quite yet," he murmured. There was a firm knock on the door. "That will be Shendla." Slowly, almost reluctantly, he removed his hand from her belly.

With a small sigh, Neya disentangled herself from him and heaved herself out of the pool. As she was drying herself with a weave of Air, it suddenly appeared vital to her to know what his relationship with the other woman entailed exactly. She looked up at him as he followed her out of the pool and opened her mouth to ask, but before she had a chance, the door opened. Neya glared at the woman and hurriedly scrambled into her clothes. Shendla arched an eyebrow in her direction with a carefully guarded expression on her face before shifting slightly to eye Bao.

Neya had never thought of herself as a particularly jealous woman, but Bao was naked, and the woman was taking it all in as if Neya wasn't even here. She embraced the Source once more, preparing one of the new weaves she'd discovered just a few hours ago, but Bao put a warning hand on her shoulder. She turned to glare at him, but he simply shook his head. A gateway suddenly appeared next to them, leading back to the camp. "Go ahead," he told her. "I will send the midwife, and we will talk later." She wanted to argue, but his face had taken on a stony look that brooked no debate. Sullenly, she walked away from him.

There was a lot on which to ponder, her unexpected pregnancy clearly not the least of it, or her tendency to end up in any male Forsaken's bed – what was _wrong_ with her? – but as she made her way back to her tent, she caught herself grinning. Mintel would be over the moon when he found out.


	47. Though she be but little, she is fierce

" _Ina_?"

Neya woke up with a start to find Demian hunched over her with a candle in his hand. The boys had taken to calling her that after she told them she was pregnant. It was a shortened word for _inahan_ , which meant 'mother' in _isleh_. She was fairly certain Kalayaan had started it; no one else could speak Ancient, besides Mintel. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. "What's going on?" she whispered, sitting up on her cot.

" _Ina_ , I think Kematian is dead." Demian looked very pale. He was only twelve, one of the youngest Ayyad in her care.

Neya blinked at him. Kematian was a healthy boy of eighteen, a channeler completely untouched by the taint. "What happened?" she asked as she rose to her feet.

She gestured for him to lead the way as he explained. "I got up to go to the latrines and I stumbled on something. It was him. He's…" He cut off, shivering violently.

Neya put an arm around his shoulder. They were almost the same height. "It's alright. Just show me where he is."

They made their way to one of the larger tents where the boys slept. Kematian was lying on his stomach on the ground, blood pooling around him. Neya crouched beside him and put a hand on his neck to Delve him. He was dead, his body already cold; all spark of life had deserted him. There was nothing she could do. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Demian, can you fetch Kalayaan and Torn, please?" It shouldn't take long; the two men were still sharing the same tent.

When she was certain the boy was gone, she turned Kematian over. There were… holes… in him. As if he'd fallen in a bear trap filled with thin, short spikes. She checked the ground under him and found holes of the same size. She widened one of the holes and put a finger inside but felt nothing.

Kal and Torn arrived just a minute later, trailed by Demian. They stared at the young Ayyad's lifeless body. "Another snag in the Tapestry," Neya told them sadly. That was what the Sharans called the Pattern. There had been other incidents in the past few weeks, although thus far no casualties had been reported. One of the younger boys had woken up to find a pit of bright yellow snakes under his bed. Only days ago, the fires they had set up to cook dinner had suddenly flared fifty yards up in the sky and exploded into an Illuminator's fireworks. The world was slowly unravelling, a sure sign that _Tarmon Gai'don_ would soon be upon them.

Neya asked Torn to carry Kematian out and take his body to her own tent for the time being. She told Demian to go back to bed, though the Light knew the boy was unlikely to sleep again after this. She turned to Kalayaan, who was staring blankly at the blood. "What do you usually do with…" she began hesitantly.

"Dead bodies?" he supplied helpfully. She nodded. "We burn them. At least, that's what they did with the dead Ayyad, back in the village. I don't know what regular folks do with their dead."

"Then we'll burn him. Do you think we should gather everyone?"

"Yes. The caretakers never let us attend a cremation, but I believe the others would like to pay their respects. We can do it tomorrow."

"I wish Mintel were here," she said wistfully. The old man had left just the day before. Bao sent him to recruit young men – and women – for his army, which made little sense to Neya.

Kal shrugged. "There's not much he could have done. Should we warn Bao?" he added with a grimace. He didn't approve of what happened the week before, and she couldn't blame him. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it herself.

"Probably." She hadn't seen Bao since they had spent the night together. "Not now, though. There's no point bothering him in the middle of the night for this. There's nothing he can do about it, either."

* * *

The next morning she asked Abe to open a gateway for her. The few male channelers had been taught how to weave gateways but were not supposed to do it except at Bao's command. Surely he wouldn't mind; this was an exceptional case. She stepped into the Magnificent Palace of Supremacy – as Mintel called it. She wasn't sure if the _abrishi_ had been joking or not. She would have to ask Shendla. The woman had no sense of humour, so Neya could expect the truth from her. She knocked on Bao's bedroom door. She didn't know if she would find him here, even so early in the morning, but it seemed like a good place to start.

The door opened wide, revealing Saseko. She was obviously naked underneath the blanket she'd draped around herself. Neya stared at her blankly before noticing Bao sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, his bare back to her. He was covered with welts. For a moment Neya simply stood there, speechless. She wasn't sure how what to do or think; there were too many emotions whirling around in her head. _That must be how Mazrim feels most of the time_ , she thought irrelevantly.

Bao suddenly rose from his chair and turned to the door. She saw him scowl, an impressive display of expression for him. He walked up to them and nudged Saseko aside. The Darkfriend gave Neya a snooty sneer before walking away. "What are you doing here?" Bao demanded, still frowning.

Why had she come, again? Oh, yes. "Kematian is dead," she told him flatly. She was glad to hear that her voice didn't shake. She noticed absently that he hadn't asked anyone to fix his nose since last week.

His scowl deepened. "How? What happened? How did you get–"

"Does it matter?" she cut him off sharply. "He's dead. I just thought you should know, since he's one of the channelers," she went on, ignoring his glare at the interruption. "Now take me back to the camp. Please," she added as an afterthought. She would show him she could be polite no matter the circumstances, even when the only thing she truly wanted to do was strangle Saseko. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do to him – what she _could_ do to him. He was too likely to enjoy any sort of torture. Burn the bloody man! Then again, what had she expected? He was one of the Forsaken, after all. Light, after everything that happened to her, how could she still be so naïve?

"Neya–"

"Bao, don't make me repeat myself." She could be polite, but it wouldn't last indefinitely. "Open the flaming gateway." Well, it had lasted a good thirty seconds. Not too bad, considering.

A gateway appeared on her right. "Thank you kindly." She stalked away without looking back.

* * *

Bao frowned after the girl as she made her way through the cluster of tents on the other side of the gateway. He had not expected her to come here today, or any other day for that matter. He had forbidden the male Ayyad to open gateways without his consent. Was he losing them? Had they decided to shift their loyalty to the girl, instead of him? He could not afford that. It was past time he made his final move and rallied the whole nation for good. He had to accomplish the last Prophecy and become the Wyld.

Shaking his head slightly, he closed the gateway. Saseko moved closer to him, grinning wickedly. He dismissed her with a gesture of the hand without a glance. Truth be told, he would have preferred to have Neya with him last night, but Saseko had been closer at hand.

Not only had he not particularly enjoyed his time with the Friend of the Dark, but he knew this was a mistake from the start. Once he had started, however, he would have been hard pressed to stop. The woman was happy enough to make him suffer, but she did not go the right way about it. She was harsh and inept and had no idea where to strike for the pain to be pleasurable. He had done his best to finish as soon as possible. And now he had most likely ruined it with the girl. With Neya, he amended. Why was it so difficult to use her name? She, unlike Saseko, was as apt as Semirhage when it came to dealing exquisite pain.

He and Nemene had spent quite a lot of time experimenting after he turned his back on the Light. She thirsted to uncover new ways to hurt and she was without equals in her knowledge of the human body. He had been more than willing to be her test subject. It lasted a few months, until they grew bored of each other. Her interest was purely academic, of course, and he had only agreed out of sheer lust. In any case, two Chosen could never last as lovers, even two as pragmatic and devoid of emotion as they were. There was too much at stake. They could not afford any distraction, something that Balthamel – or Aran'gar, as she called herself now – seemed to have trouble understanding, or even Graendal, to a lesser extent.

It was different with Neya. He could tell she had enjoyed it as much as he had, as odd as that may seem. But that was beside the point. Shendla said she was important to his plans, and he had to make sure she remained on his side. She could become quite dangerous, if she decided to turn against him. She was as strong as Lanfear ever was, if his _ter'angreal_ could be believed, even though she did not possess even a hundredth of the knowledge Mierin did. And she might have the male Ayyad on her side, should she choose to act. He had to make good with her, before he left for the Hearttomb. He would have to ask Shendla for advice on the best way to proceed. He really could not afford to make it any worse.


	48. There's a great woman behind every idiot

_Curse men and their libidinous urges!_ Shendla thought fiercely. _He could not have kept his breeches on for another minute to get the girl, could he?_ She felt embittered and annoyed at Bao's foolishness. She expected better of him. She thought she'd made it clear just how important the _ulikar_ was. Of course, he didn't know _why_ she was important. Shendla thought it best to leave that part out and feign ignorance.

She could not fathom why they did that. What could possibly be his excuse? With a gateway, he could have fetched the girl and be back in his bedroom before a minute had gone by. How she hated this. It brought back memories she would have rather kept buried. Her father had been such a man, never able to keep it in his breeches. Unfortunately, isolated as they were, Shendla, his only daughter, had been the only female he could lay his hands on.

She shook her head firmly. Better not to think about that. Her father was dead fifteen years now, and good riddance. It was no use dwelling on the past. She had to focus on what was to come. The future of her people – of mankind itself – depended on it.

She strode past the rows of tents until she spotted the girl. She was talking with a middle-aged, bird-like woman. It had to be the midwife, Nyamukuta. She had almost forgotten about that. The girl was pregnant with another man's child. Shendla had not expected that. There had been nothing on the matter in her visions.

Both women turned to her as she came into view. The girl glared at her, as she often did. What had Shendla ever done to her?

"What are you doing here?" the _ulikar_ asked crisply.

The midwife nodded her head briefly to Shendla before leaving them. Shendla ignored her. "We need to talk."

The girl snorted. "He sent you, didn't he? Burn the man. Can't be bothered to come himself." She put her hands on her hips. "There's nothing to talk about, Shendla. I don't care what he does. I don't have time for this, anyway. I have many things to see to."

She turned to depart, but Shendla grabbed her arm firmly. "Don't be foolish, girl. There is too much at stake. Let's go to your tent," she added imperiously, gesturing for the girl to lead the way.

The _ulikar_ rolled her eyes dramatically but finally shrugged. "This is my tent," she pointed at the one behind her. They made their way inside and sat on the ground. Before Shendla could open her mouth, they were interrupted by Torn, who lifted the canvas without warning. " _Ina_ , we have a–" He spotted Shendla, and a wide grin broke upon his face. "Hi there," he greeted her in coarse Sharan dialect. They had been friends for years; he was the one who took her away from her home and freed her from her father's clutches when she was just a girl.

She returned his smile briefly. "Torn, can it wait a moment? I need to talk with this one, it's important." She inclined her head toward the girl.

"Of course, of course. It's nothing we can't handle. I'll come back later. See you around," he told her genially.

Shendla turned her attention back on the _ulikar_. "You must make peace with Bao, girl."

"I _must_ make peace with him? Why? What's it to you?" she demanded.

"It's nothing to _me_ , personally. I could do without you, believe me," Shendla replied with a grimace. Good grief, she was annoying. Couldn't the Tapestry have chosen a more amenable person to see this through? "But Bao needs you to accomplish his destiny. I have seen it," she went on matter-of-factly.

"And why would I want to help him achieve that? Why would you, for that matter? I'm here because I have no choice. You do know who he is, don't you? You must know what he truly intends to do. Isn't it obvious that he's manipulating you, all of you? Or are you so blindly in love with him that you do not see that?" the girl asked with a sneer.

Shendla let her rant with all the patience she could muster. Better if they got it all out of the way once and for all. When the girl was done, she spoke quietly. "I am not in love with him, although I have become quite fond of him, it's true. I do know who he is and what his plans are. I know them better than you do, girl," she said flatly. "I do not believe he is manipulating us, however. Oh, he was at first," she added when the _ulikar_ scoffed, "but it's different now. He's changed. He may not believe in the Prophecies, not entirely, but he knows this is the path that he must follow to achieve his objective. I also know that he has become quite attached to this land and its people, although he will not admit it. He continually claims that he doesn't care for anything or anyone, but he is only deluding himself. He is not as heartless as he seems to think, or would like to be." Shendla paused for a moment, eyeing the young woman thoughtfully. She remained blessedly silent. "I need you – no, we all need you – to make sure that he fulfils his fate, because the alternative is unthinkable. This world needs Bao to become the Wyld, if it wants to prevail at the Last Battle."

"You're not making any sense," the girl broke in. "If you know who he is, why do you want him to prevail? Are you a Darkfriend?" she asked with a frown.

"I am not, nor have I ever been," Shendla said firmly – and as calmly as she could, in the face of such a grave accusation. Obviously, the girl had no idea how insulting her question was. Were all Westerners so casual about these matters? Calling someone a Darkfriend like this… Unless one had evidence to back that claim, spreading such tales was punishable by death. Mintel should have taught her that. "Bao does not see it yet," Shendla went on, "but before the end, he will save the world. That is why you are here. The Tapestry has put you in Bao's path for this very purpose."

The girl stared at her as if she were mad. Shendla let out a small sigh. She was quite used to these looks. "Shendla, he's called the Wyld. That means Dragon Slayer, doesn't it?" Shendla nodded. "Then how will accomplishing the Prophecies help save the world? If he kills Rand – the Dragon Reborn – the world is doomed. Unless your Prophecies claim otherwise?" she asked dubiously.

"It is simply stated that the Wyld will unite the people of Shara and lead them in the Last Battle, where he will accomplish his fate. It says that exactly. There is no mention of him actually slaying the Dragon."

"I don't get it," the girl said, looking puzzled. "Why would he be called Dragon Slayer if his fate is not to slay the Dragon?"

"Prophecies are always full of riddles and metaphors and are subject to interpretation besides. Their true meaning is only made clear _after_ a prophecy has come to pass. I do not think Bao is supposed to literally slay the Dragon. Or maybe the Dragon is not the one we assume." Shendla made a dismissive gesture. "It matters not. What is meant to be, will be. It is you who concerns me at the moment." She looked at the girl. "You will help him accomplish his destiny, that much is certain. I have seen it. For that to happen, you must remain close to him. You must remind him what it means to be human."

"But why me? Why can't _you_ do it? You claim to be fond of him. And he seems… well, fond might be too strong a word, but he holds you in high respect. Which is more than I can say of myself," she said with a grimace.

Shendla shook her head. "It is not my role. I must guide him, help him find what he is seeking, nothing more. I do not know why you have been chosen for the task, girl. I just know that you have, and that if you fail, it will mean death for us all."

"Then we're dead." Shendla scowled at her. "I have no intention of going back to him. Did you really expect me to fawn over him while he tumbles every woman he can lay his hands on?" she asked sarcastically. "You'll need to find someone else. Ask Saseko, why don't you," she said angrily.

Shendla was losing what little patience she had left. She understood the girl's resentment, but one must put aside such petty feelings in light of the circumstances. Could she quit acting like a child for a minute? She sounded a lot like Bao himself, when she spoke like that. "Fool girl! It is not about you," Shendla hissed. "Will you really doom the world because you must put your own little person above everyone else?" she scolded her. The girl looked startled. "Bao cares nothing for that one. Men have urges, and she just happened to be there. You must _make_ him want you, and only you. The fact that he asked me to talk to you is an indication of how much he regrets it. He made a mistake. He is not without flaw. No one is."

"If he's so regretful, why did he send you? Why didn't he come himself? In any case, I'm quite sure he only feels bad because you told him I'm important and he's afraid I'll do something to sabotage his plans."

 _So she's not entirely stupid_ , _at least_ , Shendla reflected wryly. "He did want to come himself. I convinced him to let me talk to you instead. I said you would be more amenable toward me and that he might make it worse. Was I wrong?"

"Do I look amenable?" she asked nastily.

"Stop behaving like a child. Don't you understand how much depends on you, girl? I know you care for these boys," Shendla said. "And for him as well. Don't deny it," she said sternly. "Would you really let them all down because your pride was hurt? Bao knows what he did wrong. You can be certain it won't happen again. He's a lot of things, but he's not an idiot." _Most of the time, he's not_ , she amended to herself.

"Alright, fine. I'll talk to him," the girl said reluctantly. Light be praised! And people wondered why Shendla wanted no children. "Tonight. Or tomorrow. I really don't have time now. I wasn't making that up."

She stood up and Shendla imitated her. "Thank you for hearing me out. I realise the task set upon you is not an easy one, girl. But this is not a time to walk away from your responsibilities. There is simply too much at stake."

The _ulikar_ gave her a calculating look but said nothing, so Shendla left.


	49. Because you're mine, I walk the line

She decided that she would leave Bao to stew for a while longer. She would ask Abe to take her to the palace the next evening. When she came back to her tent after dinner, however, she found the Forsaken sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed. Mintel had explained about the meditating state that the _abrishi_ often sought, but she didn't know Bao did it, too. He looked up when she walked in and stood up. "Shendla said you wanted to talk," he said quietly.

Neya sat down. Burn the woman! It had been a long day and she was exhausted. Did they have to do this now? Bao sat down in front of her before she could turn him away. "Look, there's not much to talk about," she said with a resigned sigh. "I understand that things were different during the Age of Legends. Everybody bedded everybody, nobody cared. But in case you hadn't noticed, this is _not_ the Age of Legends," she told him wryly.

His face remained as impassive as ever. "It was not quite as you make it sound, but it was indeed different, I concede. Sexual fidelity was not as uncommon as you seem to think, however."

She felt herself blush. Apparently, he had picked up the Sharan habit of using that word without a second thought. She had never even heard the word 'sex' uttered out loud in her life before being brought here. _No, that's not entirely true_ , she amended. Jay was quite free with some terms. Maybe it was a thing of their Age. "People simply took the time to define the terms of their relationship," Bao went on matter-of-factly.

 _Oh, of course. How silly of me_ , she thought bitterly. _I should have specified that you should not hump anyone else when I'm not around._ "You know, to most people, this would be a given." She was silent for a moment as she considered her next words. "I don't even know why I'm so angry," she admitted eventually. "It was just the one time, and I don't understand how it happened in the first place." She looked up to him. "Whatever came over you, all of a sudden?"

He didn't look away but didn't answer either. She gestured dismissively. "It doesn't matter. It makes more sense for you to bed the Darkfriend, anyway," she said with an involuntary grimace. Saseko was much better-looking than Neya; she was tall and willowy, with lustrous black hair. And besides, she was probably more… experienced.

He was still silent. She was about to send him away – why had he come if he was not going to say anything? – when he finally spoke. "I would rather have you," he said softly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Why me, burn you?" She trailed off in frustration. "We have nothing in common. I mean, let's face it, you're a bloody Forsaken." She saw him tense, although she wasn't sure which word caused him to. Well, he bloody well was. "And I'm pregnant besides," she added. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that, but why would he bother with someone who carried another man's child? Shendla must have addled his brains with her premonitions, or whatever it was. "Why me?" she demanded again, more firmly this time.

"I do not know how to answer that question," he told her simply.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Look, I'm not as stupid as you seem to think. I know what Shendla told you. Do you really expect me to attach myself to you for no other reason than the fancies of someone I barely know?" Once again, he made no reply. She threw up her hands in irritation. "Forget it. This won't work out. It can't." Light, how could it? At the time, being with Elan had seemed logical, because she thought she was stuck with him anyway, and she had known from the start that Jay was a mistake, but this was something else entirely. How could she still claim to follow the Light if she consciously decided to be with him, no matter what Shendla claimed? He was gazing at her, his eyes intent. Blood and ashes! Why wasn't he talking?

She was considering sending a thread of Air to make him react when he spoke. "I want you. Not because Shendla said so," he added when she tried to argue. "What happened last week was entirely her idea, admittedly." Of course it was. Burn the bloody woman! "But that's irrelevant now. I could not force myself to be with you if I did not want to, no more than you could. But I _do_ want you," he repeated, more forcefully this time. "And I was hoping you might return the feeling," he went on almost… hesitantly. Hesitation, from Demandred? That seemed impossible. The man was confidence personified.

His eyes were still fixed on hers and she had to clear her throat before speaking. Light burn him! Why did he have to be so flaming gorgeous? "Fine," she said eventually. "Suit yourself. But if it's me, it's _only_ me."

"Very well," he replied flatly.

She snorted. "You'll excuse me if I don't take your word for it. If we're going to do this, I also want to sleep with you." Her eyes widened slightly when she realised what she'd said. "I mean sleep as in… sleep. As in rest. Slumber," she went on frantically, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"As you wish," he said simply.

"It was not a suggestion," she stated wryly. "There's something else," she went on. She tried her best to appear in control of her emotions. "I want you to tell me everything I want to know." She was going to forsake – ironically enough – her soul for him, but that didn't mean she was giving up on gathering information. It was the least she could do, and it might still come in handy. Besides, she was dying to know what was going on in the West.

He scowled slightly at that. "What do you want to know?"

"What's Rand up to?"

Bao was silent for a moment. "He captured Semirhage a few days ago," he said eventually.

"Oh, good," she said with a grin. "What about the other Forsaken?"

"Osan'gar died during the cleansing of the taint. He was Aginor reincarnated," he added at a questioning look from her. "Balthamel was reincarnated as well. He – she – is known as Aran'gar now. The others have made no specific move that I know of," he went on carefully.

"That you know of," she repeated dubiously. That was unlikely – he had spies everywhere – but she let it slide. He was actually answering her questions; she couldn't let the opportunity pass. "What else is going on?"

"Nothing of import. There was news of an entire population committing suicide, but I do not think it will have any influence on present events or on the Last Battle. Seanchan is aflame with rebellion and chaos. Their Empress was murdered, and the heiress cannot be found. I believe Semirhage did for the Empress," he added as an afterthought.

Well, she couldn't care less about the flaming Seanchan. "An entire population killed itself?" she repeated incredulously. "Who? Why would they do that?"

"I do not know why. I did not inquire. They were called the Amayar. They lived on the Sea Folk islands," he replied dispassionately. "A peaceful people, apparently."

Neya shook her head in dismay. "That's all? What about the Black Tower? And the White, for that matter."

"You want to know about Taim," he said flatly.

How perceptive. "Among other things," she said with a falsely unaffected shrug.

"You should not dwell on him, Neya. He has changed since you last saw him, and I do not think you would like the man he has become."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she couldn't help but notice that he had used her name. He rarely did. "I'll be the judge of that. But forget about him. It doesn't matter." If something dire happened to Mazrim, she would know, in any case. Wouldn't she? "What about the other _ta'veren_? Mat Cauthon and Perrin Aybara?"

"I do not know. I have not been following them too closely, lately. Your friend, the rebel Amyrlin, has been captured by the White Tower, however. She is alive and whole, as far as I know," he added when he saw Neya's worried look. "There really is not much to tell. Unless you had a more specific concern?"

She shook her head. "No, I guess not." She'd had no time to prepare her questions. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said suddenly. "From now on, I will flaming cuss whenever I bloody want to," she told him with a smug smile. "That condition is non-negotiable." His lips tightened but he made no response, so she went on. "I want new clothes, and I want to take a bath. Every day," she added firmly. She wondered how much he would agree to before he realised she was taking advantage of the situation.

A gateway suddenly opened, revealing his bedchamber. Bao stood up and held out a hand for her. "As you wish."

"That's not the bathroom," she said stupidly.

"Well spotted," he replied with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. Apparently, he was running out of patience.

She eyed him uncertainly. "I should let the others know I'm leaving."

Bao gazed at her hungrily, hand still outstretched. "No time for that now."

It was too late to back down. She took his hand and followed him on the other side – through the gateway that lead to his room, and to the Shadow.


	50. Voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein

She awoke at dawn. Bao was lying on his flank, facing her, a hand on her stomach. His eyes opened when he heard her breathing change. "I must leave soon," he said quietly.

"Are you sure I shouldn't be coming with you? You don't know who or what the Guardian is. I understand you must face it alone, but you might need a Healer afterward. You can be sure that if you come out of _Rai'lair_ hurt and weakened, the Ayyad will jump on the opportunity to do away with you."

"They cannot afford to kill me now. If – when – I come out of the Hearttomb, I will be the Wyld. No one will be able to stop me then," he murmured. She had asked him what he hoped to find there, besides this shiny new title. Sakarnen – or _D'jedt_ , as it was known during the Age of Legends – was a _sa'angreal_ designed to channel _saidin_. Bao claimed it was more powerful than _Callandor_ itself. Once he had a hold on the Sceptre, and provided that he could bring the Ayyad to form a full circle, he would be invincible – or the next thing to it.

As the day when he would depart for _Rai'lair_ approached, he had taken to mutter and rant about Lews Therin more and more often. He was truly obsessed with the other man. She didn't understand how Shendla could believe that he would end up saving the world somehow.

"I will be fine," he went on, almost reassuringly. Well, she was a bit worried. He had spent most his time practicing the sword, mostly with Torn and her – usually against both of them at once – and he had been fasting for days. He meditated whenever he wasn't doing anything else. There was absolutely no indication as to the nature of the Guardian in the Prophecies. For all they knew, it was long dead. It seemed unlikely that anything – or anyone – might have survived this long, living in a cave. Yet she would feel a lot better if he would let her accompany them. Most everyone would be going with him, except for the female Ayyad, although he seemed certain that they would follow at some point, regardless of his orders. He had told them to keep an eye on matters while he was gone, and he expected Neya to keep an eye on _them_.

"When I come back, I will be formally acknowledged as the Wyld and crowned king," he told her. "We will be ready for the Last Battle. I do not think it will be long now. A few months, maybe weeks. The Pattern is unravelling." There had been other strange occurrences in the last few days. While some were happy coincidences, others had rather dire consequences. It sounded like the sort of events that took place when Rand was about. Maybe the Dragon Reborn's _ta'veren_ nature was getting stronger as the end drew near, strong enough to reach even here. Or maybe Bao himself was _ta'veren_. She had reflected a lot upon that lately. It would make sense; after all, his campaign to take over Shara had been full of odd circumstances. Maybe, as Lews Therin – Rand – had been chosen to be the Light's champion, Bao was meant to be the Shadow's champion. It would be fitting. The two men had always been rivals. At least, that was how Demandred saw it. She didn't think Lews Therin had ever considered Barid Bel Medar as a rival, but rather as a friend against which he could compete amiably. The Dragon had probably never been aware of Barid Bel's jealousy and increasing scorn until it was too late. How different everything might have turned out if he had.

"I must go," Bao murmured.

She turned to face him, looking into his dark eyes. His hand followed her movement to remain on her belly. It always did. "Be careful. I would hate to be the one to tell that Moridin person that you died fighting some ancient immortal creature in a gloomy cave for an artefact that might not even be there." He had mentioned Moridin when she asked how many of the Forsaken were left, exactly. Apparently, the newcomer had been named _Nae'blis_ for reasons none of his associates could fathom. The Dark One really was a chaotic entity. Still, it appeared that the youth was quite formidable; he had to be, for Bao to even use that word.

"It will be there. It has to be." His tone implied that if the remaining part of the Sceptre was in fact not there, someone, or rather a large part of the population, would suffer for it. "And I am always careful," he added after a pause.

"Be extra careful then." He nodded briefly before extracting himself from the bed. She took a particular care to admire the view as he dressed himself, since he would be gone at least two weeks, maybe more. She wasn't sure why he couldn't simply open a gateway near the entrance of the cave; something to do with the Prophecies, apparently. Shendla said the journey to the River of Souls was part of achieving his transformation as the Wyld. Neya had assumed Bao would dismiss that as a waste of time, but he listened to Shendla and followed her advice as if she had written the Prophecies herself. She got out of the bed and walked up to him. "Make sure to bring back everyone else in one piece as well." She meant the Freed and male Ayyad. The next few weeks were sure to be lonely with all of them gone. At least Nyamukuta would be keeping her company. She was quite fond of the mousy midwife.

"I will." It always amazed her, the way every word he spoke seemed to be an unbreakable vow. He could be so intense, so earnest. And he was so beautiful. Light, how could anyone in their right mind have thought Lews Therin to be better-looking? He moved closer until he loomed over her then leaned forward to kiss her softly, placing his hands around her waist. She was surprised at first; he never did that. _And no wonder_ , she thought amusedly, _it must really strain his neck to bend down this low_. Slowly, he let go of her. "Take care," he said quietly before turning around. She watched him leave, feeling gloomy. She couldn't wait for all of this to be over.

As the door closed, she put a hand on her belly, as she often did these days, at least as often as Bao did. She had always laughed at pregnant women who did that, but she found it comforting somehow, even though her pregnancy didn't show yet. A few days ago, she had finally asked Bao why he had decided to involve himself with the baby at all. Apparently, Shendla had never mentioned it, so why was he so determined to look after it as if it were his own? "In four hundred years," Neya told him, "you've never had one, nor wanted one, if what I've heard from the others is true. Why are you doing this now? Is it just because of me, because I'm so important to your… quest? Do you think the baby is important too, somehow?"

"I do not know whether it is important or not, but that is irrelevant." She wasn't entirely convinced of that, but she said nothing. "I never felt the urge to have children before, but now…" He looked oddly hesitant. "Now it seems I _cannot_ have children, and you never miss anything so much as when you are denied it."

He had told her before about his theory that none of the Forsaken could have children. "But how can you be so sure about that? Did you _try_ to have one?"

"No, of course not. The idea never once crossed my mind since I turned to the Shadow." He was silent for a long time. "It _is_ all because of you," he said eventually.

That was all the answer she received. It was clear that he wouldn't say anything else on the matter, and she knew better than to press him. As long as he did right by them – provided they both lived long enough to see the child born – she wasn't going to complain.


	51. So passionate, and yet so utterly doomed

He came back seventeen days later, jumping out of a gateway and clutching the Sceptre. Apparently, he had dropped everyone in the courtyard and opened another gateway just inside the bedroom a moment later – at least that's what Kal told her the next day. He was smiling. Grinning, really. She had been so startled she had almost choked on her weak tea. He had dismissed Nyamukuta with a vague wave of his hand and practically thrown Neya on the bed.

She watched him sleep for a while that night, wondering what would happen next. He would be crowned soon, and then he would begin gathering his forces in earnest, she assumed. Only a few boys could channel, but apparently there would be enough of them to form a full circle. It could be mainly constituted of female channelers without breaking the link, although a more balanced number of each gender would have provided an even more powerful circle. With Sakarnen, however, Neya didn't think it would matter. Unless Rand decided to attack Bao with the Choedan Kal, he would likely be overwhelmed. She wasn't certain that the channelers of the Light knew how to form a circle, let alone a full one. And even if they did, it would mean that the Asha'man and Aes Sedai would have to work together, and the very idea was laughable. She wondered if Rand had managed to unite everyone under his rule. It seemed improbable, no matter how strongly _ta'veren_ he might be.

She had taken the opportunity of Bao's absence to attempt to befriend, or at least become acquainted, to some of the female Ayyad. She hadn't expected anything from Galbrait, despite having saved the woman's life, and indeed only received a contemptuous stare for her trouble. She'd had more success with the young woman Bao had entrusted with the rehabilitation of the former slaves, however. She had been appointed just a few weeks ago. Her name was Taimaka, and she was also a Healer, the best amongst the Ayyad.

She became aware that Bao was looking at her and smiled at him. He smiled back, and her heart leaped in her chest. It wasn't fair. When the Last Battle began, she knew she would have to abandon him. She wasn't that far gone that she wouldn't at least try to fight for the Light, although she doubted they'd want her there, after everything she'd done. In any case, her relationship with the Forsaken was doomed, no matter how she looked at it. He would either repudiate her for betraying him, or die. There would be no happy ending for them.

"You're a mess," she said teasingly. He really was, and not just from what they'd been doing all night. There were deep gashes on his back and thighs, and she suspected a few cracked ribs as well. He was covered in bruises. Why hadn't he asked someone to Heal him? "What did you do, wrestle a bear?"

"A _jumara_ , actually," he replied casually. "A full-fledged one."

She stared at him blankly for a second as she tried to remember what the word meant. "A Worm?" she asked incredulously when it finally hit her. He nodded. "Are you bloody insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Peace, man, don't you have any regard for your own skin?"

"I am here, am I not? In one piece, as promised. And I brought back the prize, just as I said I would." He looked unusually smug.

She shook her head. "May I Heal you? Or do you want to keep the scars to remember the Worm by?" she asked wryly.

"By all means," he answered indifferently.

She placed a hand on his arm and made it all disappear, save for the small scar on his nose. She rather liked it. "I don't know how you do that."

"It is not too difficult, as long as you do not use the Power and know where to strike. You just have to cut the beast to pieces until it is dead."

"Oh yeah, it's a piece of cake. That's not what I meant, though." He frowned slightly. _"_ I remember when my Da cracked a rib some years ago. For weeks he could barely move. He said it hurt to even breathe. So how do you manage to do… well, anything, really? You do feel the pain, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I simply do not allow it to come between me and whatever task I am undertaking. Not unless I want it to," he amended.

She chuckled softly _._ "I don't suppose you would give birth in my stead, by any chance?"

He seemed to think it over for a time, as if seriously considering it. "No, I would not," he said eventually. "That is something I would never want to experience."

"Well, you're not likely to," she told him wryly. "Why not, though?"

"The pain would be too excruciating, even for me."

She stared at him incredulously. "Blood and ashes! If even you couldn't take it… That's very comforting, thank you."

"I had not realised you were so worried about it. You know that women have been giving birth since the dawn of time, do you not? Most of them survive the ordeal, some more than once. They even manage to be happy about it, afterward."

Was he being sarcastic? She couldn't tell for certain. "Again, not particularly reassuring." She snuggled closer to him _._ "And what if you're gone to the Last Battle when it happens? I can't do this on my own."

" _Tarmon Gai'don_ will be upon us much sooner than that. But you will not be alone, even if I am not around. I will make sure of that."

She was not relieved in the slightest, but she put the matter aside for now. "I believe you said something about being enthroned when you came back from the Hearttomb?"

"Yes, as soon as possible," he replied.

"We should make it a proper celebration. You're officially the Wyld now, and you're the king. That calls for festivities. It will raise everyone's spirits, in light of the battle to come."

"I suppose we could do that," he said cautiously. "How soon do you think we could make it happen?"

"A few days, a week at most. I suppose Shendla will take care of the ritual ceremony. Taimaka will help with the rest, and Kal, too, if I ask nicely. Where are the boys, anyway? Did you take them back to the camp?" she asked as she got out of bed. It would be a stretch, but she could make it work. She had already made some preparations while he was away, at his request.

"No, but I told them they could make a gateway there if they wanted."

She put on some clothes and walked to the balcony that overlooked the gardens. Mid-spring was the best season to enjoy the view, as most of the flowers were in bloom. She had spent a lot of time down there in the past two weeks. Bao followed and stood behind her. "If we are going to celebrate…"

"We certainly are," she cut in happily.

"…perhaps we should take the opportunity to be wed at the same time."

 _What did he just say?_ She didn't speak for a long moment. Her mind was utterly blank; it couldn't process.

"Neya?" he prompted her softly. When she didn't answer, he turned her around gently. She couldn't even look at him. She buried her face in his chest. "What is the matter?" he asked with a faint trace of concern.

"You have no idea how much I'm struggling not to break down in hysterical giggles right now," she finally managed to whisper.

He sighed irritably. "I was being serious," he said, seriously indeed.

"I know. You're always serious." Inhaling deeply, she took a tiny step back to look up at him. He was scowling at her. "Why do you want to marry me?"

"If I die during the Last Battle, I want to make sure this land is left in good hands," he replied quietly.

 _Always the practical one_ , she thought wryly. "And if you live?"

His scowl deepened. "What do you mean?"

"Shendla said you needed me until the Last Battle. What if you live past it? You won't need me then. And I would be a ruler in my own right, if we're married, wouldn't I?" She shrugged. "Not to mention that I'm pregnant with Mazrim's baby."

"You misunderstand me," he murmured. It was her turn to frown. "I _want_ to marry you, and not only for the practicalities it entails. And I thought I made it clear that I would look after the child." He gazed at her intently. He never said anything he didn't mean, but did it really matter in any case? It was a moot point. Whatever happened during the Last Battle, he would die; either the other side would see him dead for his crimes or kill him in battle, or the world would end and _everyone_ would die.

With that in mind, it seemed irrelevant whether they were married or not when it happened. If that was what he wanted, she would give it to him. Besides, she realised she wanted it, too.


	52. Give me your heart and your soul

The formal ritual of acknowledgement of the Wyld was performed at dawn. Shendla saw to it in her usual perfunctory manner, with no wasted word or gesture. It seemed the whole nation had turned up to attend the festivities; the palace's courtyard was bursting with people, most of them former slaves, but Sharans of all origins and status filled the streets of the Capital as well.

Bao and Neya would be married soon, in the gardens. It was spring, and they couldn't have hoped for a more beautiful setting, in Kal's estimation. Not that it mattered much to him of course. This was all a grievous mistake, as far as he was concerned.

Neya was getting ready in Taimaka's room, with Torn and himself to assist. Taimaka was doing Neya's hair; it had to be something practical that would accommodate for the crown she would have to wear after the coronation, which would take place later in the afternoon.

"Are you sure about this?" Kal asked her for the umpteenth time. It didn't matter to him that Bao had accomplished the prophecy, not since Neya had revealed who he truly was, just a few days after they returned from the Hearttomb. One of the Forsaken could not be the Wyld. He had known something was off about the man, but this was worse than he had anticipated. Demandred was walking among them and ruling over Shara. He was planning to have them fight for him at the Last Battle. For the Shadow. Kal wanted to go to Galbrait, to urge her to have him removed somehow. Against four hundred Ayyad, surely Bao wouldn't stand a chance, even with the relic he'd acquired in _Rai'lair_. But Neya had convinced him not to. How could she stand to be so close to the Shadowsouled? To actually share his bed? It was beyond him. Kal found it difficult to even be in the same room with him. If this whole wedding business was part of a bigger plan, Neya hadn't informed him of it yet.

"Yes, I'm sure. Stop worrying, I'm nervous enough as it is," Neya told him.

"Not for the same reasons, I'll wager," Torn put in heartily. He seemed as unconcerned as Neya. Didn't they realise what was at stake here? They couldn't possibly be Darkfriends, not them. Kal was almost certain of that. Almost.

"You're insane," he muttered darkly. "Both of you."

"Don't be like that," Taimaka scolded him. "It's her wedding day! You should be happy for her."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Happy? She's about to marry _Demandred_ , for crying out loud! The man who is going to destroy us all! How is that something to be happy about?" Light, they were _all_ mad! Had the Shadowsouled poisoned their minds with the Power?

Taimaka shrugged lightly. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. There's more to people than what the eye can see."

Kal shook his head. "If you think marrying him will change him, change what he is, you're wrong, _ina_. I see that you love him, or you think you do, but this is madness. He certainly doesn't love you back. The likes of him are beyond saving, beyond redemption. He will lead us to our doom and you, more than anyone else, will suffer from it." He hated to be so harsh to her – he had come to consider her as a friend, if not quite as a surrogate mother, like some of the other Ayyad – but _someone_ had to make her see. Better to be hurt by the truth than comforted by a lie, as the saying went, especially if that lie meant their lives.

Neya turned to look at him, looking outwardly cool and collected, despite her earlier claim that she felt nervous. "I know all that, Kal. Believe me, I do. But what would you have me do? Kill him in his sleep, when he's vulnerable, now that I have his trust? You think it never occurred to me that I _could_ do it, and how easy it would be? How many lives I could potentially save with one swift stroke?"

No, he didn't think she had, as a matter of fact. Light, he kept underestimating her, even after all this time. It made it all so much worse. "Neya–"

"If you think _you_ can do it, then do it," she told him earnestly. "I won't blame you. I will hate you for it, Light help me, but I won't blame you. But I couldn't. Not now, not ever. I know it will all end it tears. I know he's doomed, no matter the conclusion. And I know there will be casualties, although I intend to make sure there are as few as possible. I will deal with my own share of responsibility once we receive the butcher's bill. I haven't given up on the world, however. I'm not ready to do that just yet."

What could he say to that? He hadn't realised she was so conflicted about the man. How could he have, when she stared at him all moon-eyed whenever he was around?

"You don't have to attend the ceremony," she went on. "You don't even have to be here. I told you that before. You're free to go. You could have left days ago, when I told you who he was."

"And yet I didn't. Where would I go, anyway?" he said wistfully. "No. We're all in this together. We follow the madman, and we'll do what we can to stir him on the right path, I suppose. Whatever happens, we live or die together."

"We live or die together," the future bride repeated softly.

* * *

The wedding ceremony was done in the House of Kongsidi – as it was simply named – but involved very little religious nonsense, thankfully. To Neya's delight, Mintel had offered to perform the ceremony himself. The old man was beaming so much he had trouble keeping track of his words. When he was done with his part, he asked her if she wanted to add something. Taimaka had explained that it was customary for the bride and groom to come up with the marital vows in their own words, so she had been working on a little speech. She was incredibly nervous at having to speak in front of so many people, but she figured it would help convey the importance of her words.

"Bao, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad that you brought me to this blasted, Light-forsaken land after all," she began after Power-enhancing her voice to carry to the end of the hall. That brought some laughs. "I will forever look after you and care for you, as best I can," she went on more seriously. "I will always keep your best interests at heart and do whatever is in my power to make your life as happy as possible. I will always love you, and only death will part us. Or it won't, depending on your belief regarding the afterlife," she amended. "But before that happens, I vow to make you choke with laughter." That brought more laughter from the assembled crowd and a round of applause. She wasn't done, however. "This I swear, under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth." She fixed her eyes on Bao as she spoke. He looked slightly startled by those last words, although she doubted anyone noticed. There was no oath stronger than this one, for one who walked in the Light – or thought they did.

"I shall ever protect and shield you from harm. I shall care for you and look after you and our children to the best of my ability. My heart belongs to you." He hesitated for a moment. "This I swear, under everything I hold true." She knew very well he couldn't reciprocate her oath, but this was more than she'd expected from him. That was quite enough for her.

He looked so earnest she felt her heart break a little. _My heart belongs to you_. Light. She had always made fun of people who cried at weddings but this was… Oh well. Nobody would blame her if she wept. She was pregnant, after all, and pregnant women could afford to appear overly emotional. She had no idea what was in store for herself after the Last Battle was fought, but she knew she would have a hard time getting over it.

"Well, it looks like you got it all covered," Mintel told them warmly. She grinned at him through her tears. "You may kiss him now, if you wish," he added with a grin of his own.

"Kiss him?" she repeated with mock horror. "Peace, no one said anything about that!" Laughter broke once more amongst their guests. Bao didn't wait for it to die down before kissing her, however. She didn't think they were supposed to kiss like _that_ , either.

"Alright, alright, you don't have to consummate the marriage on the altar, my friend!" Torn called out mirthfully.

Everyone cheered as they left the gardens to join the female Ayyad in their own building, where the coronation would take place. She still had trouble getting her head around it. She, a flaming queen! Of Shara, of all places! It was a fine joke. _Mat will roll on the floor with laughter when he finds out_ , she thought wryly. _If I ever see him again_ , she amended sadly.

Galbrait herself placed the crowns on their heads. They were magnificent, both made of light, polished metal and woven in intricate patterns. Bao's represented complicated symbols associated to the Wyld that matched the tattoos on his hands. Her tiara was a maze of exotic flowers. There were tiny scintillating gems of various colours incrusted in hers. Their crafting must have taken long hours. It seemed Bao – or had it been Shendla's idea? Neya found she didn't really care anymore – had been planning this for a while.

She had talked to Shendla before the festivities began, mainly to inquire about the formalities of the different ceremonies, but also to submit a theory to the older woman. A Worm, in _isleh_ , was called a _wyrm_. In the Old Tongue, _wyrm_ was a word for dragon, although admittedly not the best known one – _aman_ had been more commonly used. Still, it got her wondering. Could Bao have become the Wyld after slaying the _jumara_ , the Dragon of _Rai'lair_? Shendla studied her for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "I hadn't considered that," she said eventually. "Perhaps you are right. Only time will tell, I suppose." She made a dismissive gesture, as if it didn't matter at all. Neya left feeling a little disappointed. She had been quite excited when she'd figured it out. She would talk to Mintel; the _abrishi_ might be more inclined to discuss it. She might even broach the subject with Bao – _my husband_ , she thought giddily – although she suspected it wouldn't change anything, even if he embraced the idea.

They were in the bath, soaking in the blissfully warm water after a long day – that had been followed by an equally long wedding night. How odd, she mused. She had never given marriage a second thought before, and now she was married to one of the Forsaken, to Demandred himself, and queen of a land she had discovered only a few months past. She was going to be a mother. What strange places the Pattern can carry us to, what mysterious twists life can take.


	53. There's no point getting all annoyed

The dream had come again, unbidden. It had been so long now. She didn't think she'd relived the scene once since Lanfear had released her, almost a year ago. It seemed like another lifetime.

She saw herself come out of the small cottage, basket in hand, so young and carefree. In a moment, she would reach the sheep pen, and then she would hear her mother scream in terror. And, as was the way of nightmares, she would witness the entire scene in painful detail. Unable to close her eyes, she braced herself.

"You don't have to watch, you know," said a voice close behind her. Startled, she spun around to face the owner of the voice. He was a youthful man, as tall as Rand himself, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was quite beautiful, except for a distinct cleft in his chin. She had never seen him before, but Bao had described him to her: she stood before the _Nae'blis_ , Moridin – death itself made flesh. Around her, the dream retreated. The farmyard that had been her childhood home and the nearby woods made place to smooth black walls. They were standing in a dimly lit room, with no furniture that she could see. The ground appeared to be made of flames, although no heat reached her.

She knew she should have knelt; a few months ago, she would have. Now she simply stared at Moridin. "What do you want?" she asked coolly, placing her hands on her hips.

"Such fearlessness," he said with a twisted grin. "You haven't changed at all, pet."

Her eyes widened in astonishment. "Elan?" He didn't answer, but his smile softened. "How long have you–" She cut off, shaking her head. Bao had told her that some of the Forsaken Rand had done away with were reincarnated in new bodies, but he had made no mention of Ishamael. "Why did you wait so long to find me?" she whispered instead.

"I wasn't going to come at all," he muttered darkly. "Yet here I am, against my better judgement." He summoned something out of thin air. "I thought you might want to have this, before the end." It was _Tsorovan_ , the Power-wrought blade he had given her when she was with him. "Although I'm afraid you won't have much time to enjoy it."

She took it, admiring the violet-blue edge. "It has begun, hasn't it?" she asked quietly. He nodded. "So this is it. The Last Battle."

"An end to it all, at long last," he said wistfully.

"It doesn't have to be the end."

"I want it to be," he said, almost too low for her to hear. "I _need_ it to be," he went on, more forcefully this time.

"Elan, you don't have to be alone. I'm here for you. I can help."

He chuckled softly. "Always the same. You're too caring for your own good, girl." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "To think you managed to ensnare Barid Bel of all people," he said eventually, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

"Ensnare?" she repeated incredulously. "I did nothing of the sort! I don't even know how it happened in the first place."

" _Ta'veren_ ," he murmured.

"I knew it!" she said with a triumphant smile. "He is, isn't he? That's how he became the Wyld and brought the whole nation to heel so easily," she went on smugly.

Moridin was shaking his head, however. "Not him," he said, fixing his brilliant blue eyes on hers, "you."

She was speechless for a moment, until she realised she was gaping at him quite stupidly. "But I haven't done anything! He's the one who accomplished all the prophecies, not me. He's the Wyld, the king."

"You have done more than you know," he told her softly.

She frowned at him, but he didn't expand on the matter. "Elan, is that why you took me from home? Because you think I'm _ta'veren_?"

"I don't think, I know. And yes, it is."

"But that doesn't make any sense. If you can spot _ta'veren_ , you would have realised Mat was one, too. He slept just across the hall from me. He's _ta'veren_ , isn't he?"

"Certainly."

"Then why did you take me instead of him? Surely he was more likely to be the Dragon Reborn than I was," she said wryly.

"Oh, it would have been much more likely. You're not the right age, for one thing. But that's beside the point. I don't have a Talent for spotting _ta'veren_ ," he explained. "I didn't know your brother for what he was, at the time. I was told to find you," he said.

"The Dark One knew about me all along?" she asked in horror.

He snorted. "No, not the Great Lord, silly. The Aelfinn."

"The Snakes?" He nodded. "Why would they tell you that? I thought they were supposed to answer your questions truthfully."

"Well, they did. I simply asked the wrong question. I wanted to find Lews Therin, of course, but questions pertaining to these matters have foggy answers in the best of cases, so I've been trying to adapt the question every time I went back to them."

"Every time? I thought you could only go in there once," she said with a frown.

"I visited them every time I came back into the world. They didn't appear to mind," he said dismissively. "Anyway, this time I asked them the name of the _ta'veren_ I needed to find, and where he could be found. There rarely are any _ta'veren_ roaming the world and certainly never more than one at a time. In fact, I've only encountered two before. There was Lews Therin himself, of course. There was a brief time when I thought Artur Hawkwing might turn out to be the Dragon Reborn, but I quickly realised that he couldn't be, since he couldn't channel," he mused. "Well, that didn't stop him from altering the course of history," he murmured. Obviously, he was still prone to jumping from pillar to post and losing himself in contemplation of the past.

"So the Aelfinn… cheated you?" she prompted him, trying to get him back on track.

"Why no, they indicated the person I needed, exactly as I requested," he said matter-of-factly.

"But even if they gave you a truthful answer, even if you needed me, I wasn't the one you wanted to find. They had to know that."

"Of course they knew. They take a pervert pleasure in misleading their guests, in case you hadn't noticed," he told her wryly.

"But if they gave you my name, you had to know right away that I couldn't be him. Neya is not a very masculine name."

"Names can be as misleading as the Finn themselves. Besides, I've never heard of a female _ta'veren_ before. To tell you the truth, it didn't even occur to me that you might be a woman until I first laid eyes on you," he said with a faint smile. "I was enraged when I realised you weren't the Dragon Reborn," he went on conversationally. "You'll never know how close I came to kill you, that night. Thankfully, I thought better of it. After all, the fact that the Finn led me to you seemed to imply I would need you, even though I couldn't possibly fathom why, at the time." He shook his head. "Killing you would have been a disaster," he murmured.

"Well, I'm sure glad you kept me alive," she said conversationally. "Elan, do you know what happened to Mazrim? Is he dead?" The bond had suddenly… vanished… two nights ago. She wasn't sure what to make of it. It didn't fit the ripping apart sensation and raging emotions that she associated with the death of a person bonded to another. Not that she had experienced it before, but she'd heard stories.

He didn't answer for a long time. He sat down after a minute, gesturing for her to imitate him. She hadn't noticed the two armchairs that were now in the room; likely, he had just summoned them with _saidin_ , as he always did. Or were they still inside her dream, somehow? Was this what he called _Tel'aran'rhiod_ , the World of Dreams? She didn't know if he could use the Power in this place.

He was still silent, apparently lost in thought. She watched as black specks swirled in his eyes. What in the Pit of Doom were those? "Taim is dead," he said eventually. She closed her eyes for a moment. Light, he couldn't be! She would know if he was, wouldn't she? "I'm sorry," he went on quietly. Blood and flaming ashes!

She opened her eyes again to look at him. He seemed sincere. Had he killed the Saldaean himself? Did it matter if he had? There was nothing she could do about it now. "Why did you seek me out tonight?" she asked him. "Is this a farewell?"

"I suppose it is, although I can't rightly say _why_ I came here tonight. It would have been better for both of us if I hadn't," he muttered grimly.

"Well, in that case," she said, getting back on her feet, "it might be best for me to go back to my husband." If the Last Battle had begun, their time together was coming to an end. She had to make the most of it, while she still could. Elan scowled at her from his seat. Clearly, he had expected her to stay a while longer. She would have, but she had to leave before she became too emotional. She didn't want to part with him while crying like a baby. "Please?"

He stood up and moved closer to her. Why did she always end up facing men who towered over her? It did put a terrible strain on her neck. "Very well," he murmured. A gateway opened, but now that he was right there in front of her, she couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around him as the tears started to leak from her eyes. _Too late_ , she thought bitterly. He held her for a long time, not quite as awkward as he used to be, and stroked her hair softly.

"I liked you better before," she whispered eventually, taking a small step back and wiping the tears from her eyes. "You look barely older than me."

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I'll be sure to petition for a body that's more to your taste, next time," he said wryly. "Although I'm not sure what you're complaining about. I've received quite a lot of admiring glances," he went on with a small grin.

"You know me, I'm picky. I could not settle for less than the most beautiful man alive," she said, returning his grin.

"You are entitled to that opinion, I suppose. I must point out that I'm taller than him, however."

They both laughed, and she realised how much she had missed him. She couldn't let him go without trying once more. "Elan, please. You really don't have to do it. If you go over to the Light now…"

His face hardened, all trace of mirth vanishing abruptly. "Don't be a fool," he said sharply. "There's no going back for me. There never was." He fixed her with those incredible blue eyes of his. "And if you think you can convince Demandred to follow you over, you will be equally disappointed. He is too far gone. You've worked him up to do some good, somehow, but he cares only for Lews Therin. As soon as he reaches the battlefield, you will disappear from his mind altogether. It will be as if you never existed." The words hurt more than they should have. She knew very well what would happen once Bao left, but that didn't mean she liked hearing it from someone else. "Your world is about to end, and there's nothing you can do to prevent it from happening."

She smoothed her face as best she could. "Take me back to my husband," she demanded with all the regal imperiousness she could muster.

"As you wish," he retorted scornfully. The gateway sprang back to life beside her and she stepped inside her room. "Enjoy your final moments, pet. They will be short," he called after her. She turned back to look at him one last time, but he was already gone.


	54. A shiny new era is tiptoeing nearer

Bao awakened to the sound of voices and found Neya standing in the middle of the room, glaring at nothing. He got out of bed to join her. "What happened?"

"Moridin happened." She shifted her wrathful gaze to him. "Why didn't you tell me who he was?" she demanded, hands on her hips. That was usually a bad sign.

"You did not ask," he answered quietly. Her eyes opened wide in outrage. "And he forbade me to tell you," he added quickly. Her glare turned into a scowl. She looked as though she had been crying; her eyes were red and puffy. "Did he hurt you?" he asked dangerously. Did the man think he could simply waltz in and torment his wife? _Nae'blis_ or not, he would pay if he had harmed her.

She shook her head and sighed deeply. "He says the Last Battle has begun," she told him dejectedly.

"Yes, it has. He warned us earlier in the night," he added when she narrowed her eyes at him. "I did not want to wake you to let you know. I would have told you in the morning."

"I figured you'd be gone by now, if you knew," she said with a small frown.

"My time has not come yet. I have some more preparations to see to before I can join the fight."

With another sigh, she buried her head in his chest. She did that often, these days. He was not certain whether the pregnancy was making her more emotional than usual or if it was the looming spectre of the battle to come that troubled her. Come to think of it, it was probably both of those things. "Are you really going to leave me here?" she whispered.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on matters here, and you are the Queen, after all. Besides," he went on softly, cupping her chin in his hand, "if we should both die, the country will be left to the mercy of the Ayyad, and I doubt they will be forthcoming after the recent events. The land will fall into chaos again, slavery will be re-established. Everything we have accomplished here will be undone in an instant and all our plans for the future will be discarded."

They had many projects. It had started soon after they were married, when Neya asked exactly why he had sent Mintel to recruit, instead of a younger person. The truth was that the old _abrishi_ had travelled the land back and forth and knew it better than anyone else; he knew every populated area from the mining camps of the Great Rift to the fishing villages on the coast of the Morenal Ocean. Besides, Mintel could travel along the City of Dreams with remarkable ease, something Bao himself couldn't do. Indeed, the Ways were crafted after he was confined inside Shayol Ghul, and he was not familiar with them. Mintel was simply the best suited for the task.

In any case, it had prompted Neya to question how those villagers got by, and she had not liked the answer. The land was so immense, she said, it was a shame that only a tiny part of it was occupied and, even worse, that these people – her people – lived in such dreadful conditions, for the most part. She wanted to build new cities and places where people could learn, just like al'Thor had. Think what we could do, she told him dreamily. Think of the possibilities. And they had; as soon as the battle was over, they would begin by setting interconnected gateway platforms across the land, so that the fishermen and miners and lumberjacks who lived in all corners of the nation could visit the Capital at any time. It was an ambitious project, and there were more to follow. Just as he had known she would, she was quickly adjusting to being a queen. She was going to be a wonderful mother, too, he was sure.

"I know. I just hate to let you all go away without me. I'll be fretting all the time, not knowing what's going on. Not knowing if you're safe," she murmured.

"There is nothing for you to worry about. By the time I make my move, they will be exhausted, weakened. It will be a matter of days, maybe hours, before I secure our victory. It will be a formality. Our losses will be few. Once I have crushed Lews Therin's puny army, we can start planning in earnest. We will have the whole world to ourselves," he told her earnestly, "and all the time we could ever want." Her eyes took on a sad look. She still did not believe, but it mattered little. She would, soon enough. "It was promised," he went on in a low voice. "The Dark One will reward us beyond our imagination." He saw her sudden frown. "I know what you think. But you will see." He bent down to kiss her gently, then more roughly. She responded with her usual passion, and soon he forgot about it all.

* * *

She watched his chest rise and fall, focusing her attention on his even breathing, his heartbeat. It would be another few days before he had to depart, he said. She intended to spend as much of that time as near him as she could.

Idly, she wondered if he realised what he'd said just before they fell into the canopy bed. The Dark One, he had called it. She dared not hope, but she knew what she had to do now.

It was decidedly odd that it had never occurred to her before. She had suggested it to Elan without even thinking about it, yet it was only then that it struck her. It wasn't Elan she was supposed to drag to the Light, it was Bao.

It seemed so obvious now. Shendla must have known it from the start; that had to be what she meant when she visited her in her tent that day, after the whole business with Saseko. Prophecies are subject to interpretation, the older woman had said. Bao wasn't meant to kill Rand. Just as Neya surmised, he had already killed the dragon, the _jumara_ , thus becoming the Wyld. He was meant to save the Sharan people – and the world – by siding with the Light in the Last Battle. How she was supposed to convince him to do that, or the Light to take him back, for that matter, was another problem entirely.


	55. Allons-y

They were all assembled outside the Capital, the whole army, soldiers and channelers alike. Bao intended to make a grand entrance, bringing everyone through the gateway at once, using a full circle. Neya stood on her own, not far from where Kalayaan was whispering to Torn, with Abrazo shadowing his every move as usual. Predictably, Kal had been named leader of the male Ayyad. He was the weakest channeler by far, but he was certainly the strongest character and most sensible of them all. When Torn walked away to join his own part of the army – he was to lead the Freed – Neya approached Kal and Abe. After all, she might never see them again.

Kal smirked when he saw her approach. "Your Majesty," he said with mock reverence.

She couldn't help a small smile of her own. Sharans really cared nothing for etiquette – not that she minded. "Be careful out there. Look after them," she told him gravely.

"Oh, I will. And you, try not to get into too much trouble while we're gone."

"Of course, you know me. It will be just the right amount of trouble." She returned his grin, trying to appear more cheerful than she felt.

Kalayaan shook his head ruefully. "You will be a terrible mother."

"Don't say that! As if I wasn't worried enough about that."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be silly. You'll be just fine. Besides, you're already a mother, in a way. A fairly decent one, I suppose, although I don't have anyone to measure you up against," he went on with a shrug.

Now she felt like crying. She often did, these days. She turned to Abe. "Make sure Kal doesn't do anything stupid, will you?" The big man bent down to give her a crushing hug.

She returned it with every ounce of strength she could muster, until Kalayaan coughed discreetly. Neya let go to look at him questioningly. "Who else knows about this… plan… of yours? Shendla? Taimaka?" he asked her in a low voice.

"It can hardly be called a plan, I'll admit. I wish Shendla had told me earlier what she had in mind, what she wanted me to do. She will know what to do when the time comes, I'm sure. Taimaka knows to expect something and to stand ready, but I haven't dared tell anyone else. I can't afford to trust anyone else, not with this."

"Mintel?"

She shook her head. "Not even him. I'm afraid he might warn Bao, thinking to act for my own good – or Bao's. It's really just the three of us. And Torn, I suppose."

Kal nodded briefly. "Yeah, I told him." He gave her a tiny bow. "I'll see you on the other side, _ina_." With that, he turned to prepare his men for departure, Abe trailing after him.

She watched them walk away, feeling sad. _Light, let them be safe. S_ he put a hand on her belly. Mintel joined her a moment later. "I know what you're going to say," she told the old man. "It's normal for me to stay behind, I'm the Queen, and the battlefield is no place for a pregnant woman, blah blah blah," she said bitterly.

The _abrishi_ surprised her with a hearty chuckle. "Why, I would never. The reason we are not taking you with us is that were you on that battlefield, you would destroy them all in a jiffy, leaving us with nothing to do." He beamed at her, and she returned his smile.

"I'm just so worried. They're all so young. Galbrait has to be the oldest person around, excluding you."

"Galbrait is much older than me, _mala._ She's over five hundred years old, I think, and she has led the Ayyad for at least a century." Neya stared at him in disbelief. Five hundred years old? But… "That's impossible. Bao said only the channelers of the Fabled Age lived that long." That was what the Sharans called the Age of Legends.

"Then Bao is wrong. Or maybe it is only the case for these… Aes Sedai."

Light! How had she not known that before? Taimaka had never mentioned it. Was Bao even aware of the fact? She would have to investigate when… well, she would investigate if she survived the Last Battle.

Mintel gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Do not worry, _mala_. The Wyld will keep everyone safe." He sounded so earnest. Did he know what she had in mind? Had Shendla mentioned any of it to him? Neya knew how much he believed in Bao. He would gladly give his life for him, if it ever came to that. She hoped it wouldn't.

The Wyld himself was walking toward them. He had already donned his armour. It had to be the most bizarre armour she had ever seen – not that she had seen many sorts of armours, admittedly. It seemed to be made entirely of shiny coins, so bright and polished that they reflected the fading light of the evening. It looked absolutely ridiculous, to be honest. Of course Bao looked quite fetching in it – he looked good in everything, or nothing – but it seemed utterly unpractical and unnecessarily showy. Very much unlike Bao to don such a thing, but Shendla had been adamant. It was the armour of the Wyld, kept in pristine condition for millennia in the Citadel. It was amazing that it had survived for so long. Then again, no Sharan would dare touch it for unholy purposes. The Prophecies were possibly the only thing that united everyone, rich or poor, high or low. The armour fitted Bao perfectly; no alteration had been necessary.

"We are almost ready," Bao said quietly. "Mintel, would you mind keeping an eye on the recruits you brought in? Some of them are quite unruly."

The old man chuckled. "Of course they are. Most of them are barely older than Cailin, and uncouth villagers besides." Cailin was the youngest Ayyad, a girl of barely sixteen, but she was uncommonly strong with weaves of Fire and Earth, which was why Bao insisted on her coming along despite her young age – after assuring Neya and Galbrait both that she would be kept as far back from the first lines as possible. Galbrait was not a particularly likeable woman, but she was sensible and looked out for the women placed in her care.

After Mintel bade her goodbye, promising to keep his good eye on everyone, Bao turned to her. "We must leave now." He had a peculiar look on his face, but she couldn't say what it was. "Try not to start a war while we are gone," he told her with a deadpan expression.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "That sounded suspiciously like an attempt at making a joke."

"I may be a bit rusty."

She grinned at him delightedly. He did have a sense of humour, somewhere deep inside. "That's alright. We can work on that when you get back. It's a skill like any other. You just need to hone it and practice it more often."

That earned her a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. _I will make him smile one day_ , she vowed again, as she had at their wedding.

She wasn't entirely certain he could bend down with his armour, so she lifted herself up on small platform of Air to kiss him. Not for the last time, hopefully.

When he was gone, when everyone had left through the monstrous gateway, Neya rode back to the Palace in all haste. She had much to do, many people to see. She wasn't worried about anyone questioning her motives, however. That was one of the perks of being a queen: people rarely stopped to question your orders, no matter how whimsical they appeared.


	56. I'll be back

Egwene was studying the map attentively, although if she was honest with herself, she didn't understand all the moves Mat was making. He seemed perfectly confident, if somewhat nervous, sometimes muttering under his breath in the Old Tongue, sometimes cursing so everyone could understand him quite clearly. In the distance, Demandred's _saidin_ -amplified voice was booming, demanding that Lews Therin face him.

Elayne was there, resting on a stool with Birgitte at her side. Logain had returned with them, with his few remaining followers from the Black Tower. Min and Siuan were talking in low voices, probably discussing what happened earlier. Lan was there as well, staring in the distance, presumably toward Shayol Ghul, where Nynaeve was, with Rand and Moiraine. Gawyn stood nearby, of course. He never left her side for longer than he had to. He was engaged in conversation with his brother. Leilwin stood rigidly a few feet away, still as a statue. Natael was playing his harp; the man seemed to carry the thing around like some carry their sword, and he rarely stopped playing. Egwene still hadn't figured out exactly what the man was doing here, why Rand had insisted that he remain close by. She had other, more important matters to worry about, however. The Great Captains had all been deposed, in light of the recent realisation that they had been Compelled.

It looked bad. Bloody catastrophic, in fact, as Mat put it. He wasn't sure how much he could salvage following the chaos the confused minds of the Great Captains had created. But he would try; that was one thing for which he could be counted on.

Logain cried out suddenly, shouting ' _Gateway!_ ' and she whirled around, filled with _saidar_ , ready to attack. Neya walked out of the opening, which winked out as soon as she was through. They all stared at her in silence for a moment.

Mat was the first to recover. "Blood and bloody ashes! You have _got_ to stop doing that! I thought you were dead. Again! Flaming ashes," he muttered once more, for good measure. He walked up to his sister. "Are you alright? After what happened with Taim…" he said uncertainly.

Egwene finally found her voice. "Mat. You should step back."

Mat turned to her, frowning. "What? Egwene, it's Neya!" As if she couldn't see that.

"She's wearing Sharan clothing," Egwene explained. "The women I saw when they attacked our camp wore the same blouses." She knew she was right about the clothes, but she couldn't make sense of this. How on earth had Neya ended up in Shara, of all places?

Before Mat could reply, Neya spoke. "She's right, Mat. I was in Shara for the past few months." Her voice sounded… different, somehow. She seemed more poised, more mature. In fact, she looked almost regal. Mat's scowl deepened. "Bao brought me there. I assume you've puzzled out who he is by now?" she asked, looking at Egwene, who nodded curtly.

"She's under Compulsion," Logain said before Neya had a chance to continue. "Or she's been brainwashed. She's different from before," he went on with a frown.

"Oi!" Mat protested. "Watch your tongue, man. That's my sister you're talking about." Logain looked at him in surprise, as did some of the others in the tent.

"Logain, it's not like that," Neya said softly. "Please, you need to hear me out." Once again, she looked at Egwene as she spoke. "Eggs, you were-"

"Show some respect, girl," Gawyn hissed, "when you address the Amyrlin Seat." Egwene put a hand on his arm in a placating gesture.

Neya looked unfazed. "Egwene," she said again, "you of all people should understand. You were with the Seanchan for weeks. Does that make you one of them? Did they manage to brainwash you? Why couldn't I have remained true to myself in captivity, just like you did?"

Egwene studied her old friend thoughtfully, considering. Siuan took the brief silence as an opportunity to whisper in her ear. "Mother, the girl is _ta'veren_. She glows almost as brightly as Cauthon does. Do you really know her?" Egwene nodded. It made sense; at the very least, it would explain why Neya always ended up in the most unexpected places.

Min approached on her other side. "I would love to tell you what I see, but she's a channeler _and_ a _ta'veren_ ," her friend muttered darkly. "There are so many different images around her, it makes me dizzy. One thing is clear though: she is no Darkfriend." Egwene turned to her, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "There's this… aura… enveloping her. It's not unlike your own." Now Egwene was frowning, too. Her own? She had an aura? "Did I never mention it?" Min asked with a shrug. "Well, you said you didn't want to know what I saw around you. Anyway, it's a bit like what I see around Logain, except for the colour. It's pure white. It's the colour I associate with people who serve the Light, as opposed to the pitch black I see around the Forsaken. I saw it around Semirhage, anyway," she amended. "Of course, it doesn't mean she's not under Compulsion. She might even have been brainwashed, but if that's the case, she's still convinced that she walks in the Light."

"Neya," Egwene asked, "if Demandred had you, why did he suddenly left you unsupervised, long enough to allow you to escape? And if you can Travel, why didn't you come back earlier?"

"I can't make a gateway, if that's what you're asking. I had one of the Ayyad open one for me. Bao left me behind without a guard because he trusts me," she went on simply, as if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation. The fact that she would believe such a thing seemed to tip the scale heavily in favour of brainwashing or Compulsion, but Neya had a point. The Seanchan hadn't succeeded in breaking Egwene's will, and Neya had always been stubborn, even by Two Rivers' standards. She had to be given the benefit of the doubt – for now, at least.

"Why did he even take you in the first place? What happened?" Logain asked. "One day you were there, everything proceeding as usual, and the next morning you were gone. Taim just said that you left without telling him, that he assumed you'd gone because al'Thor ordered you away."

Neya shook her head sadly. "I would never have left like that. Bao – Demandred – just showed up that night and brought me back with him. I had no idea Mazrim was a Darkfriend. How did he die?" she asked Logain.

The tall man sniggered. "Die? He's not dead, girl. He's one of them. M'Hael, they call him now." Neya's face drained of colour. She looked truly upset.

"You didn't know?" Egwene asked her.

"No," she whispered weakly. "That bloody son of a flaming goat!" she cursed fiercely.

"That's a euphemism if I ever heard one," Logain said bitterly.

"Not Mazrim," Neya said. "I was told he was dead. Blood and ashes!" she cursed again. "But I don't understand. Why can't I feel him through the bond if he's alive?"

Everyone stared at her in stunned silence once more. This time, Egwene was the first to recover. "Bond? You're _bonded_ to Taim?" she asked. She couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice.

"Aye. I was too far away to feel anything, but a couple of weeks ago, it just… vanished. I can't really explain it. I just woke up to realise I couldn't feel him anymore. I assumed he had severed the connection, but then I was told he died." She grimaced. "I have only a vague idea of what's happened here. Bao didn't tell me much, besides the fact that Semirhage and Osan'gar died."

"Osan'gar?" Egwene repeated. She'd never heard that name before.

"Bao said he was Aginor reborn. Or reincarnated, same difference. You are aware that the Dark One is putting deceased Forsaken in new bodies, aren't you?" Neya asked around uncertainly. "At least those who weren't killed with balefire," she amended. "I think Aran'gar might be dead as well, something to do with Graendal screwing up badly. He – she – was the new version of Balthamel." She looked around, before finally settling her eyes on Egwene. "You do know all that, don't you?"

"How are we supposed to know?" Galad demanded. "None of us are Darkfriends. We don't have access to the same knowledge you do."

Neya opened her mouth to retort, but Egwene was faster. "There's no need for that, Galad. She's not a Darkfriend. Why would she tell us that, if she was?" she went on when he looked ready to protest. "I realise this might be a trap, that Demandred might have sent her, but I do not believe she's turned to the Shadow. I won't believe it, not until I have evidence of the contrary." Egwene fixed her gaze back on her old friend. "We need you to tell us everything you know."

"Of course," Neya put in quickly. "But Eggs, that's not why I'm here. Not just that, anyway." She sighed deeply. "Look, I know how it looks. I've been gone for months, and before that I was with Mazrim. Considering how things turned out, it makes perfect sense for you not to trust me. I expected that. But will you at least hear me out? Please? I will tell you what I know, but this is beyond important."

At that moment, there was another commotion. Mat and Logain both cursed, and Lan had his sword out before anyone else had time to react. Gawyn and Leilwin both jumped in front of Egwene, almost hiding her view of the man who had just appeared inside the tent.

Egwene linked with Siuan, Elayne and Logain, but she couldn't shield the newcomer. She tried to send a weave of Fire, then bonds made of Air, but nothing seemed to touch him. She looked at Logain, who shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't _saidin_.

The traitor Mazrim Taim surveyed them all with a bored expression. "I'm not here to destroy you," he said dismissively before turning his attention to Neya.

"It's true. You're alive," Neya whispered.

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me," the newly-raised Forsaken replied sarcastically.

"But the bond–"

"I've been masking it for months now, practically since you were taken. I figured you wouldn't appreciate my being forced to do unspeakable things, not to mention my recent visit to Shayol Ghul." He took a step toward Neya. "I didn't particularly enjoy it myself. Very gloomy place, and Shadar Haran is not the most welcoming host. I don't know what happened to the bond afterward. It went… numb. I could tell you were alive and still in the East, but nothing more." He grimaced.

Before Neya could reply, Logain spoke. His voice dripped with hate and scorn. "Do you really think you can take us all at once, traitor? There are several of us, and only one of you." Egwene refrained from rolling her eyes. At least he didn't say how many of them there really were.

"I suppose I could. You'd be surprised at what one can do with the True Power. I don't care to find out, however," Taim answered with a shrug. He never took his eyes off Neya.

"Then why have you come here, Taim?" Egwene asked him sharply. Why on earth would the man appear right inside the tent on his own? Was he out of his mind?

Taim didn't answer her. He was still intent on Neya. "Have you discovered a way to Heal the madness?" he asked her softly. Neya nodded. _She has?_ Egwene thought with wonder.

Taim turned to Egwene. "Then I'm here to make a deal, Mother," he announced cheerfully.

"Do you seriously think we'll make a deal with you? Are you bloody insane?" Logain asked incredulously.

Taim gave him a crooked smile. "I am, as a matter of fact. Hence my previous question."

Before Logain could rant on, Egwene stepped forward. "What deal? What do you have to offer us in exchange for your sanity?" she demanded. "Will you and your men join our side of the fight?" They were badly outnumbered, now that Demandred had unexpectedly appeared with his army. With several hundred channelers on their side, they might still be able to turn the battle around. With Mat's luck, they might.

Taim let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "If you were not so clearly losing, some of my men might be persuaded to do just that, but as it is, I'm afraid my defection is more likely to cause them to rally Demandred's camp than yours. As for the others… Well, you know what happened to them. It's no use trying to bring them over."

Neya was frowning at him. "Why? What happened to them?"

Taim's wry smile vanished instantly, but it was Logain who answered. "He's Turned dozens of them to the Shadow, against their will. It can be done, if you happen to have thirteen Myrdraal and thirteen Dreadlords at you beck and call," he said angrily. He had been made to endure the process quite a few times, it seemed.

Neya didn't say anything, but the look she gave Taim caused him to swallow. He dropped his gaze. "Anyway," he went on, "none of them were ever following me out of loyalty. They want power and a place in the Dark One's new world. I suppose Mishraile will come over, but the rest certainly won't."

"That's the deal? One Darkfriend against your sanity?" Logain asked scornfully.

"You know very well what I have to give you," Taim countered in the same tone. "Are you really going to make me believe you have no interest in recovering the seals?"

"Not at all," Egwene replied calmly. They had to get the seals, somehow, but could they really trust Taim to hand them over, even if they managed to come to an agreement? "Do you have them with you?"

"I brought one, as a show of good faith. The others are hidden in a secure location." The Saldaean took out a small disc out of his coat pocket and offered it to Egwene, who picked it up with extreme precaution. It appeared to be authentic, but…

"How do we know it's not a counterfeit?" Logain asked.

"Break it and find out," Taim offered with a sneer.

Logain put his hand on his sword and took a few steps toward the other man, but Lan grabbed his arm. "You are willing to give us the seals provided that Neya Heals the madness in your brain," Egwene recapped. Could it be as easy as that?

"Of course not. Do you have any idea what Demandred would do to me if he knew I was talking to you? He taught me a few tricks, you know. For instance, did you know there was a weave that can sear the flesh off your body and keep you alive during most of the process?" he asked no one in particular. "I need a promise that I will be safe from him – and the others – until the fighting abates." Logain seemed ready to protest but Egwene shushed him to allow the Forsaken to pursue. "I also want your word that I will not be prosecuted should al'Thor win his battle at Shayol Ghul. I will agree to be exiled to the far end of the world, never to return again, but I will not be severed or harmed in any way."

Light, the man _was_ insane. Egwene could not agree to these terms, not after everything he'd done, not even if he'd accomplished some of it under duress or because of the taint – something that could never be proven. In any case, becoming a Forsaken and pledging his soul to the Dark One, had been his own choice, ultimately. "We must take this under consideration," she told him guardedly.

Taim gave her a mocking bow. "You have one hour. The offer expires after that." With a last glance at Neya, he vanished. He didn't open a gateway; one second he was standing there, and the next he was gone. The air seemed to warp around him for an instant. They all stared at the spot he had just vacated for a long time.


	57. It's as simple and complicated as that

"This is madness," Logain exclaimed. "Surely you're not considering it! Mother," he added in a slightly more subdued tone when Gawyn scowled at him.

Egwene sighed. "We need the seals, Logain," she told him wearily.

"There are other ways of obtaining them," the Ghealdanin replied. "If we capture him…"

"And how do you propose we do that?" Siuan asked pointedly. "You saw what happened when we tried to attack him earlier. He's channeling the True Power. No one here has any experience fighting against _that_."

"She has a point, Logain. He wouldn't have appeared all alone, right inside the command tent, if he wasn't certain he could get out alive," Lan pointed out quietly. "For all we know, he has an _angreal_ , or even a _sa'angreal_."

"What are you saying? That we should agree to everything he demands?" Logain scoffed. "We can't allow him to escape justice. Do you have any idea what it's like, to be Turned to the Shadow?" he asked in a low voice. "He deserves death, Mandragoran, and I'll be damned if he doesn't get it. I will see to it personally."

Min decided to intervene. "Logain, Egwene is right. We need the seals. I know the cost is high but–"

Logain was shaking his head. "No. We can get the seals ourselves. Mother, I have put several of my men on the task already. I assure you, there is no need for this… deal."

"I have no reason to doubt your men, Logain, but what happens if they can't get the seals in time?" Egwene asked. "Besides, Taim is even less likely to leave them unguarded now that he's made contact with us and let us know he does indeed have them."

Neya approached them hesitantly. "Can I say something?" They all turned to her. Egwene nodded curtly. "I think we should allow Mazrim to come back to the Light." She raised her arms to forestall the cries of protest. "I know, I know, I don't have a say in the matter, and I'm biased in any case. But hear me out. As I was saying earlier, I have a plan. Sort of," she amended quickly. "I think I can bring Bao – Demandred – over."

That earned her a collective stare of disbelief, as she must have expected. Then everyone began to talk at once, until Egwene raised a hand and called for silence. She gestured for Neya to go on, more out of sheer curiosity than real hope. They might as well ask the Dark One to surrender. "He changed while he was in Shara. He met this woman, Shendla, and I think she's managed to convince him that his destiny was to save the Sharan people from destruction and bring them victory in the Last Battle. It's a lot more complicated than that, but I understand that time is of the essence, so I'm cutting to the chase."

Egwene nodded again, but she couldn't help questioning her friend. "Are they all Darkfriends, the Sharans?" It seemed unlikely that so many people from the same place could have pledged their souls to the Shadow, unless Demandred had proceeded as Taim had, on a much larger scale.

"No! Of course not. Quite the opposite, in fact" Neya said earnestly. "I think that there are very few Darkfriends in Shara. I've only met one, to tell you the truth. The others follow him because they _want_ to follow him." She looked at everyone in turn, trying to impress her words on them. "They have their own prophecies, you see, and Bao – Demandred – has fulfilled them. And the oddest thing is that he did half of them unknowingly. I think that, maybe, it really was meant to be. Just like Rand's fate is to face the Dark One and save the world, Bao is meant to save the Sharans, somehow."

"Girl, that's all very well," Siuan said crisply, "but how does that help us? What makes you think the man can be turned? All he's done since he arrived was sow chaos in our ranks and demand that al'Thor fight him man to man."

Right on cue, Demandred's voice boomed in the distance, urging Lews Therin to come and face him. Neya closed her eyes until the Forsaken fell silent once more. "It's hard to put into words how much he loathes Lews Therin," she told them softly. "I can't rightly explain it. Sometimes I think he can't, either. But he's sensible, rational. Most of the time." She glanced at Egwene. "I know how it's going to sound, but he's not a bad person." There was a chorus of disbelieving snorts and mutters that, once again, Egwene had to dispel. "He cares about the Sharans. He really does, Eggs. He's their king, you know. I truly believe he will do whatever it takes to see that they come out of this unscathed." She sighed. "Look, all I need is to talk to him. Give me a few minutes with him, right here, through a secure gateway, and we'll know immediately if it can be done or not. If he refuses, at worst he will lay waste to part of your army." _Your_ army? It wasn't a good sign that Neya didn't seem to consider it to be _her_ army, as well. "That would be terrible, but think of all the lives we can spare if he agrees," Neya went on almost pleadingly.

Egwene was concerned about the other woman's sanity. Did she truly believe it could be achieved? Again, that seemed to lean heavily in favour of the brainwashing or Compulsion theory. Could they afford to waste time and ask Damer Flinn to Delve her mind for traces of tampering? But why would Demandred Compel her to come here with this mad scheme? What could possibly be his angle? To lay a trap somehow, using Neya as bait? It seemed a waste of resources, and he had to know they wouldn't welcome her back with open arms.

On the other hand, if Neya was right – unlikely as it was – if there was even the slightest chance that Demandred might join their side… Was it a risk worth taking? She turned to Mat. After all, he was now in charge of the battle, and he was a gambler besides. Who better to calculate the odds? "What do you think?"

He seemed surprised to be asked for his opinion. "Ah… Well, with Demandred and his army, there would be no question as to the issue of the battle, that's for sure. But if he decides to destroy part of our army, as you say, that would be a bloody disaster." That was nothing Egwene hadn't considered already. Mat appeared to be taking the pros and cons into account, muttering under his breath. Most of it was in the Old Tongue. Finally, he turned to his sister. "What did you mean by 'secure gateway'?"

"It's actually called a window. It's… like a gateway, but without the possibility to cross from either side. Nothing can get through."

Mat considered that for another minute. "I guess it's worth the risk, if you're certain there's a chance for it to work. Are you?" he asked her doubtfully. She had always been the only person he ever listened to. Most of the time, that impressive ability had proven useless, however; Neya was almost as bad as Mat when it came to causing trouble and more likely to participate in his pranks than to put an end to them.

Neya nodded. "Absolutely sure. But we should talk about the terms you intend to propose, because you can be certain he won't be easily convinced. No matter what Aes Sedai tricks you use, you won't be able to deceive him, I can assure you."

"I assume he will want what Taim asked for. No prosecution, not to be gentled or harmed," Egwene said. Light, she was seriously considering this.

"Probably. But as Mazrim suggested, you could exile him, and what better place than Shara? He's already their king anyway, and it's quite far. But more importantly, you could demand that he–"

"I don't understand why we are even discussing this," Logain cut in abruptly. "Letting _Demandred_ go free? Allowing him to be leader of a whole foreign nation? That's just asking for trouble in the future, provided that he doesn't make trouble right now. And provided there _is_ a future." He fixed his gaze on Neya. "I don't know what he did to you, lass, and I'm sorry we weren't able to protect you when he came for you, but you need to stay out of this. We're running out of time, and we have plans to make. Actual, realistic plans."

"Logain," Egwene said, "please let her finish." She turned to Neya. They might as well hear the whole plan. If it could be called that. "What were you about to say? What else could we demand of him?" Obviously, he would have to bring his army over, and surrender whatever _angreal_ or _sa'angreal_ he had in his possession. But to be fair, Logain had a point: exiling Demandred to Shara would only cause trouble in the future, even if they forced him to abdicate and placed someone of their own choosing on the throne.

"You could sever his connection to the Dark One," Neya replied softly.

Egwene scowled at her. "Is that even possible?" Neya glanced away for a moment, although Egwene couldn't see what – or who – she was looking at. "Neya? Do you know something that we don't?"

She looked embarrassed. "I had assumed… Didn't Rand mention… I mean…" She trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

Egwene was about to prompt her when a dramatic sigh was heard from the other side of the tent. As Egwene turned to look, Natael was making his way nonchalantly toward them. "You're unbelievable," he told Neya. "First you reject me, then you commit yourself to Taim – you actually _bonded_ him! – and now this." He shook his emphatically. "Barid Bel, of all people."

"I'm sorry, Jay. I really thought Rand would have explained by now, with the Last Battle approaching," Neya said sheepishly.

"I knew it!" Min exclaimed suddenly. "Rand never told me, not in so many words, but I saw… Well, it doesn't matter. You're Asmodean, aren't you?"

That prompted a fresh wave of indignation among the others. Swords were unsheathed, and Logain attempted to take control of the circle. He glared at Egwene when she refused to relinquish it. Natael chuckled darkly, spreading his hands wide. "Don't be daft. I've been around for months. I could have betrayed you or killed the whole lot of you a hundred times, al'Thor included. Yet I'm still here, and you're all very much alive." He smirked nastily. "Not that I never considered it, mind. But I expect the Great Lord's punishment for my failures and forced desertion will be a thousand times worse than anything you could ever do to me." He fixed his gaze on Egwene. "Mother, with all due respect, I think Logain has the right of it. Demandred will never yield. He will never turn away from his objective, and that is to kill Lews Therin, as you may have surmised," he went on wryly.

"I'm not asking for your opinion, Master Natael," Egwene replied coolly. "I want to know what Neya means by severing the Dark One's connection."

"She means exactly that. Apparently, there is a projection of the connection to be found around the Chosen – or the Forsaken, if you prefer. Al'Thor said it looked like a black wire. I'm afraid I didn't see it myself, although I certainly felt it when he cut it," he said with a grimace.

"But what did it do, concretely?" Siuan wanted to know.

"It made me susceptible to the taint. I suppose it rendered me… mortal, as well. I can't easily verify that part. Evidently, it removed my status as one of the… Forsaken. And on top of that, Lanfear shielded me. I haven't been able to channel more than a trickle of _saidin_ since al'Thor and I fought in Rhuidean. Mierin claimed the shield would dissolve progressively, but I haven't felt any evidence of that thus far," he told them sulkily, "and it didn't break when she died. Although in light of Cauthon's recent heroic actions, I suppose that there might be a chance that she lives, still."

Logain was scowling at him. "I can't feel your ability to channel at all, weak as it may be" he said.

Natael – Asmodean – rolled his eyes. "Of course you can't, you lubberwort. Al'Thor made me mask it from the start. He couldn't afford to let anyone know I was… who I am."

"It makes sense," Egwene said. They all turned to look at her in puzzlement. "He needed someone to teach him, and who else was there? I can't agree with what he did, and the Light only knows why he never mentioned it, especially now, but I can understand."

Neya cleared his throat. "Anyway… Surely you can see where I was going with that."

Egwene nodded tersely. "Yes, but that's hardly enough, Neya. Even if it meant that he can be made to take an oath on the rod, the _ter'angreal_ only applies to female channelers. Unless you know of another artefact?" She asked Neya, but also turned to look at Asmodean. Light, to think the man had been with them all along, hearing every conversation, every plan! It made her skin crawl. What had Rand been thinking? Couldn't he have at least told her?

Neya shook her head mutely, but Natael answered. "You mean this Binder of yours? I haven't found one like that or one attuned to men. I haven't acquired anything even remotely interesting, in fact," he said sourly. "Al'Thor took the access key right out of my hand in Rhuidean, and the Choedan Kal were both destroyed, in any case."

 _And a good thing, too_ , Egwene thought. "Then I don't see how that helps us. We need to make sure he won't go back on whatever agreement we make, if it comes to that."

"Egwene, if he gives up his link to the Dark One, he won't have anything to go back to. The Dark One will mark him for dead and the few remaining Forsaken will be more than happy to take his place. Once you remove the connection, there's no turning back," she said softly. "And he will be aware of that, you can be certain. The same goes for Mazrim."

"We need to consider this. Neya, if you don't mind, I think we will talk about this among ourselves. Don't take this the wrong way, but we cannot be certain of your… loyalties… at the moment." Neya nodded in understanding and Egwene turned to Asmodean. "I think you know that means you as well. If you wouldn't mind waiting outside the tent, the both of you?"

"You're going to leave them unguarded?" Logain asked incredulously. "You haven't even shielded them!"

Light, she hadn't. What was she thinking? There was simply too much on her mind. "I will shield them." She did, then turned to Gawyn, meaning to subtly ask him to accompany them outside.

Leilwin bowed her head slightly. "Mother, if it pleases you, I will keep an eye on them. I have no say in this matter."

Egwene eyed the Seanchan woman thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. She felt safer with Gawyn at her side, she had to admit. "Very well." Dismissing the three of them from her mind as they stepped outside, she wove a ward against eavesdropping and turned to the others. This was going to be a lively debate.


	58. Mangle my mind

They sat down on the ground just outside the command tent, except for the Seanchan woman, who remained standing. They were silent for a long time.

Neya. He couldn't believe she was there. Oh, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of letting her know how glad he was to see her, but he was. He'd slept with every willing man and woman he'd encountered since she abandoned him, but he never came close to filling the hole she left, loath as he was to admit it.

She was more beautiful than ever. She almost glowed. Her hair looked shinier, her breast fuller. How was that even–

He stared at her in shock, mouth hanging open. She'd just placed a hand on her stomach. Was she _pregnant_? Darkness within! It was much worse than he'd assumed.

It was true that Barid Bel always had a way with women; he could be quite charming, when he put his mind to it. Why, he had even been Mierin's lover for a time, before the Collapse, although that had been purely a scheme on her part. Doubtless she had hoped that seeing them together would spark some semblance of interest in Lews Therin. What a fool she had been.

Demandred changed drastically when he turned to the Shadow. After that, Natael had never seen him with a woman. He was certainly not celibate, but he didn't parade them around as he used to. He was also fairly certain that there'd been some fling between him and Nemene, at some point. Maybe Saine had been involved as well. He wouldn't put it past any of them.

In any case, Barid Bel wasn't a man to settle down with anyone. For that matter, none of the Chosen were, and relatively few people during the Age of Legends. In those days, people seldom settled down or married. Many men and women had several lovers at any appointed time. The people of this backward Age were incredibly narrow-minded about these matters.

It was therefore surprising to think Neya might have managed what no woman of the Age of Legends had ever accomplished – and, even though most of them might have been reluctant to have a lifelong relationship with Barid Bel, there had been no lack of potential candidates.

It was also inordinately annoying. He'd had in mind to pursue Neya once the battle was over, if it turned out she was still alive – and provided that he was, as well. What reason could she possibly have to deny him then, when the danger had passed? But, clearly, she had created enough reasons now. And that was without even considering M'Hael and their _kjasic_ bond. A thousand curses on whoever had come with that blasted weave!

He realised he was shaking his head when he saw Neya frown at him. He gave her his most winning smile. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he said sarcastically.

She chuckled softly. "I've seen worse. Jay, I really am sorry. I didn't mean to blow your cover. I assumed Rand would have told them by now." She'd said that already, so he just shrugged it off. As the days went by, he had entertained the vague possibility of never having to reveal his true identity, but it had been a faint hope. It didn't matter much, in any case. Farshaw could attest to his repenting acts. He had saved al'Thor's hide more than once. He wasn't too worried about his future, provided that al'Thor gave them one.

"You've been busy, it seems," he said, more to make conversation than anything else.

"I suppose I have." Abruptly, she scooted over closer to him. "I know you're still angry with me," she said. He let out a noncommittal grunt. He was more despondent than truly angry, as a matter of fact. Not that he was about to tell her that. "Fair enough. Can we at least be civil to each other? And what I mean by that," she went on, "is can _you_ be civil to me? You know why I left, Jay. Whatever you might think, I was not looking for an excuse to leave you."

"Does it matter at this point?" he asked uncomfortably. He didn't want to talk about it. "It was months ago. It's water under the bridge," he said with false insouciance. "I've moved on, and so have you. Obviously," he muttered the last word under his breath, although loud enough for her to hear.

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm glad that you have." Could she just leave it at that? He really wasn't in the mood for an emotional moment. Thankfully, she removed her hand. "When did Rand leave for Shayol Ghul?"

"Eight days ago, maybe nine. It's hard to keep track of the time in the present circumstances."

"Eight _days_?" she repeated wonderingly. "Why is it taking so long? Have you had news from him?"

"Time slows down increasingly the nearer you get to Shayol Ghul," he explained with exaggerated patience. "It's been days here, but probably only hours, or even minutes, for al'Thor. His fight might have only just started, while ours is coming to an end. Of course, only the outcome of his battle against the Great Lord truly matters," he went on. "And no, we have received no message from him, nor do we expect to. He's rather busy, you see," he said dryly.

"Do you have to be so condescending every time I ask something?" she said with sudden irritation. He hadn't realised he was being condescending. Come to think of it, that might explain why people scowled at him when he talked to them. "Never mind," she told him. "I'm still going to ask questions, no matter how you answer. For instance, how's the battle going?"

"You really haven't been following at all, have you?" Oh, now he heard it. Yes, he sounded decidedly condescending. Oh well. "It's disastrous, is how it is. It was dire enough before Demandred turned up, but now it's downright chaotic. We're never going to win, no matter what your brother does and how much of his luck he applies to it. That's just my humble opinion, of course, but no one appears much more optimistic than I am."

"Then why did you speak against Demandred joining us?" she wanted to know.

"I didn't say I was against it, I simply stated that it would never happen," he corrected her. Condescendingly. "You may think you know him better than I do, because you've shared his bed – obviously, you have – but believe me, nothing will make him yield and let Lews Therin go, especially now, when he's finally so close to satisfying his most fervent desire."

"But don't you think it's at least worth the attempt? If Bao comes over–"

Bao. What a ridiculous name his former associate had taken for himself. "Neya, you're deluding yourself. You love him, don't you?" She nodded unabashedly. _Darkness within!_ "Well, burn me if I understand why, but it doesn't matter. Your feelings for him are clouding your judgement." He fixed his gaze on her. He had to make her see. "The man is insane, Neya, he's a raving lunatic. He doesn't care about you, or those people, or even about himself, really. All he cares about is Lews Therin. It used to be an obsession, an unhealthy one, but it's definitely turned into madness, now."

"Maybe you're right. I don't know anymore. I feel like I'm trying to save the world and the world keeps pushing me back. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to Rand," she murmured. She looked up to him. "I understand what you're saying, but I can't stand idly by and watch him walk to his death without at least trying to help. Without trying to save him. Maybe my reason for doing so is not the right one, maybe it's wrong for me to love him, but at this point, right or wrong is irrelevant, don't you think? The Light and the Shadow are waging their final war, good and evil in their purest form. Everything else might seem insignificant beside that, but that's something I can't accept. Every life matters, and I will save as many as I can, burn me if I don't."

She was so beautiful when she spoke like that. She looked so fierce, so passionate. A minute ago, he was ready to give up on her, and now it was all he could do not to kiss her. Blasted woman. She had a way of tangling your senses in a knot until you didn't know up from down. Her _ta'veren_ nature certainly didn't help in that regard – and by the way, how had he not noticed _that_ before? It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. As he was considering whether to make a move, the Trakand boy stepped outside the tent and commanded them to follow him inside.


	59. My madness keeps me sane

M'Hael was sprawled in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, looking outwardly collected. Inside, he was roiling. It became much worse after Neya was taken. Before that, he had only suspected that his moodiness had something to do with the taint, even though Ishamael had assured him he wouldn't feel its effects when he pledged himself to the Shadow, all these years ago. Clearly, the Forsaken had lied, or maybe he'd been deceived as well. After all, he had been quite mad himself. It was also possible that being a Darkfriend had simply slowed the process of his progressing insanity. In any case, it wouldn't matter for much longer.

He was fairly certain that Neya would persuade them to let him come over. He could tell what she felt through the bond. She was nervous and afraid, but determined. The sudden surge of intense caring he felt when he appeared had left him almost dizzy. How could she still feel that way, after everything that happened in the past few months? He didn't blame her, of course. It was his own fault that Demandred had taken her in the first place. She had done what she had to do to survive.

At least that was what he'd assumed at first. After a while, however, her reserve and suspicion had made way to… well, the same feelings he'd been used to receive from her. That had been a hard blow. Before that, before she attached herself to Demandred, he could still at least be comforted by her presence at the other end of their bond, no matter how faint it felt with the distance. Restraining from attacking Demandred had been difficult after that. Only the thought that he would hurt Neya had allowed him to remain calm and neutral. Apparently, the Forsaken didn't know that they were bonded.

The madness, in itself, was not so bad. If anything, it had helped him during the last months, numbing his capacity for regret or fear, among other things. He'd become accustomed to it, to the maelstrom of emotions raging inside him. Whereas his compassion or remorse had been dulled down to nothing, others were far more exacerbated. He was perpetually angry and dissatisfied; bolder and more confident than he had ever been. That was a good thing, when you worked with the Forsaken. Besides, the removal of all these useless emotions had allowed him to focus on more important matters, such as remaining alive.

In any case, he found that being mad, and being aware of it, didn't bother him nearly as much as he would have imagined. It was just that, this close to the end – he had no illusion as to his fate following the Last Battle; it would either be death at the end of his enemies or annihilation as the Dark One took over the world – he was curious to know how many of his decisions were made lucidly and how many were the result of insanity. There was a time when he could have sworn it had all been carefully considered, but he wasn't so certain anymore. He wasn't sure of anything, these days.

After Neya was taken, he simply stopped caring. He had known all along that there would be no happy ending for them, known that from the beginning, but her sudden disappearance made everything worse. Somehow, he had deluded himself into thinking they'd have more time. Instead of vainly clinging to hope, he decided to give up whatever shred of humanity was left in him.

Well, he had, after making certain Ilawen and Karys would be properly looked after. It was a good thing that the girls were the first ones to show up that morning. If anyone else had stepped inside the palace, he might have killed them. Their presence had allowed him – forced him, really – to calm down before having to face another day. They'd walked in happily, as they had done every morning in the past month or so, asking where Neya was. He'd told them the truth, although he hadn't gone into details. Neya was gone, and she wouldn't be coming back. They'd been devastated, but he couldn't afford to care anymore. For their sake, they had to stay as far away from him as possible. He was a danger to everyone around him.

The hour was over. As he seized the True Power, he spared a moment to wonder whether he was walking into a trap, but quickly realised he didn't care.

* * *

They were still discussing the matter, apparently. They all turned to face him as one when he appeared. "Time's up," he announced loudly. He couldn't see Neya anywhere, but the bond told him she was just outside the tent. He fixed his gaze on the Amyrlin. She seemed to be making the calls.

She stared back at him levelly. She had some backbone, he would give her that. "We were just going over the details of your surrender, Master Taim," she informed him coolly.

"Surrender? This isn't a surrender, girl." The golden-haired boy at her side put a hand on his sword. He looked incredibly pale, M'Hael noticed idly. Was he sick? "This is a transaction. My sanity and life against the seals. I never said anything about surrendering." He looked around once more. "I would rather Neya was here. She's part of the bargain, after all."

"We have modified the terms, Taim. You will be cleansed from the taint's corruption, and you will not be harmed or gentled, but you must join the battle. Additionally, your link to the Dark One will be severed. We will not back down on that condition." She gave him a stern look, as if daring him to refuse.

What in the Pit of Doom was she going on about? Could the connection be broken? Nobody had ever said anything about that. "Get the girl, then we'll talk." He was stalling, trying to consider her words and what they implied. Not being linked to the Dark One meant being mortal once more, but what did it matter? He was a dead man walking. They would never hold to their part of the bargain, he was sure of that. They would speak all the right words, of course, but there would be a loophole somewhere. There always was. Not that he cared, but Neya would. He really should have severed their bond the moment Demandred's gateway closed behind her. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it now.

The Amyrlin had beckoned her bodyguard to fetch Neya, and they were both stepping back inside the tent, followed by a tall man holding a harp, of all things. M'Hael thought he'd seen him before. Nathaniel, or something? Neya walked straight toward M'Hael. She gave him a small smile as she took her place beside him, and he felt her through the bond, a bright ray of sunlight in the omnipresent darkness. She was so beautiful, she practically glowed. Shara certainly agreed with her. He longed to touch her, but that was neither the time nor the place. In any case, she might not want him to, now that she knew what he'd done at the Tower.

"Well, she's here. Will you talk now, you flaming whoreson?" That was Logain, eloquent as ever.

No, that wasn't fair. The man had a way with words, when he put his mind to it. He could turn a few short sentences into a vibrant speech and make everyone want to follow him. At the moment, he was just a tiny bit angry with M'Hael, however. Something to do with those attempts to Turn the man to the Shadow, assuredly. "I see that you're trying to be insulting, and I appreciate the effort, but the only people who might be offended by that are those who are not, in fact, whoresons. Because if you were one, you'd know that it is nothing to be ashamed of. Whores are just trying to get by and provide for their families, just like anyone else." He delivered the lecture in a low, even tone. It wasn't the first time he'd been called that. As expected, Logain reddened in embarrassment. The man had a temper worthy of any Saldaean woman, but it usually cooled down as quickly as it flared. "Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth, you know," he went on wryly, knowing it would ignite his temper once more. The other man scorned any reference to his past and former lordship. Indeed, he seemed almost ready to unsheathe his sword but the man who stood beside him put a warning hand on his arm. He wore the _hadori_. Every Borderlander knew what that meant: he had to be al'Lan Mandragoran, the uncrowned king of… well, nothing, really. Malkier was long dead, swallowed by the Blight.

"Master Taim," the Amyrlin went on with clear exasperation, "are you willing to forgo your link to the Dark One and join our ranks, in exchange for what you asked and on the condition that you provide the authentic, unbroken seals?" she demanded imperiously.

"Why would you want me to join your ranks? Would you really trust me to fight for you?" he asked sarcastically. Logain scoffed, and the women present glared at him – all except Neya. "I thought not. I give you the seals, you give me what I want. You may remove the Dark One's leash, if you know how, for all the good it will do now," he went on with a grimace, "but I will not fight. Not for you, not for anyone. As soon as we're done here, I'm leaving, and I don't intend to come back." He could tell that they didn't like that, not even Neya. What else would she have him do?

Logain was shaking his head. "And you really think we'd let you wander wherever you want, alone and unshielded?"

"What about exiling him?" Neya asked them. "We discussed that earlier, didn't we?" M'Hael turned to her, frowning slightly. The bond was all fierce determination now, with a touch of concern. "I don't know what you agreed on, but you could simply exile him to a place of your own choosing, when this is all done. If he agrees to fight." She glanced up at him. She was trying to show him that she would not let them cheat him, he was sure, but that he had to compromise. How naïve she still was. Where could they exile him, anyway? To the Blight?

He was about to point that out when the Amyrlin spoke. "You would have us confine him in Shara. That's your idea, isn't it?" Neya nodded. Shara? He hadn't considered that. It wasn't entirely stupid, actually. When the battle was over, if the Light somehow managed to win, Demandred would be dealt with, provided that he didn't die before the end. M'Hael could settle in Shara. Neya might even agree to come with him. Could he really afford to hope? It was tempting. The Amyrlin's next words brought him out of his reverie. "What about Demandred? You would have them both be exiled in the same land?"

 _What?_ M'Hael thought incredulously.

"Shara's bigger than you know. You could put all the Forsaken there and still have room to spare. In any case, when this is over, they won't be Forsaken anymore," Neya told her matter-of-factly. The Amyrlin was nodding as if it made perfect sense.

"Wait a second," M'Hael broke in, peering down at Neya. "What in the Pit of Doom are you talking about? You want to bring _Demandred_ to the Light?" She grinned at him. Grinned! Peace, she was the crazy one, not him. "Neya," he told her as patiently as he could, "he will never come over. When was the last time you saw him? Two days ago?" She nodded, still smiling. "Well, I don't know how he was when you left him, but he's clearly insane, love. I'm sorry to break it to you, but he is. And it's not the taint. He's just a regular madman, and I'm sure that fancy _sa'angreal_ of his is making it all worse." She let out a small chuckle. Burn her! "You don't believe me? Go and see for yourself. You won't be laughing then, I can assure you."

"Mazrim," she said lightly, "I know he's insane." He scowled at her. "I'm trying to cure him of that, same as I intend to do with you," she explained. He opened his mouth to protest, but she spoke over him. Everyone else had fallen silent and was following their conversation. "I know it's not something I can pick out of his brain. But regular madness is just another illness, whether or not you can see it. It's a work in progress," she told him with a shrug. She did sound crazy, even though the bond gave him no obvious proof of the fact. The bond was full of love and caring, the two emotions he was most used to receive from her. He could tell part of it was not meant for him, however.

He looked at the rest of them. "You didn't actually agree to that, did you?"

"That's really none of your business, traitor," Logain told him sharply.

"Master Taim," the Amyrlin said levelly, directing a withering look at Logain, "as you pointed out earlier, time is a precious commodity. Do we have a deal, on the previously agreed terms? Are you willing to be exiled to Shara, to live out your days there?"

It was too late to back down now. The other Forsaken – and that included Demandred; no matter what Neya thought, the man was devoted heart and soul to the Shadow – must have spies inside the command tent. Should M'Hael refuse the Light's offer, the Shadow would destroy him the moment he stepped out. As a matter of fact, he was surprised nobody had come for him after his first visit. He turned to Neya once more. She looked so earnest. She gave him a fond smile and the bond once more radiated with love. He sighed heavily before speaking. "We have a deal."


	60. You whom I cannot betray

She could have danced for joy. An hour ago, she had thought him dead, and now Mazrim was not only alive, he was going to remain that way for a very long time. It had been quite a shock to see him again after so long. Light! Did he know she was pregnant? Nobody had said anything about it, so she assumed they hadn't noticed, but Mazrim was always quick to see what others did not. And he rarely mentioned it unless it served a purpose.

The bond was still masked; even standing beside him, it was difficult to tell how he felt. When he first bonded her, there had often been too many emotions whirling in his head to pick one from the other. Now he just felt numb, almost… hollow. Maybe it had something to do with the Dark One's link, or the taint's grip on his mind. She would find out soon.

After relinquishing the remaining seals – she couldn't quite believe that these brittle disks were all that still kept the Dark One's at bay – she had expected that Egwene would want to break Mazrim's link to the Dark One before doing anything else and was not disappointed. She let Neya do the introductions. "This is Jasin Natael, formerly known as Asmodean, and Joar Addam Nessosin before that," she told Mazrim, cocking her head toward the former Forsaken. Mazrim took it in stride, as he did everything else. "Rand managed to identify the link that connected him to the Dark One, and he was able to cut it."

Jay took over from here. "I didn't see exactly what he was doing," he said sulkily. It was good to see him, too. Improbably enough, Bao hadn't known where he was, or even if he was alive. "But with some probing, I'm confident I can replicate the deed." Without another word, he set to do just that. Mazrim and he began to talk in low voices. Obviously, Mazrim was as eager to get rid of the connection as Neya was. Egwene had set guards all around them, of course.

Mat approached her a moment later. "What in the flaming Pit of Doom happened to you?" he asked in a low voice. "I mean, I get that you were in Shara and all, but what happened? You were there a bloody long time. Are you really _ta'veren_?"

"I suppose I am. Everybody keeps saying so, anyway," she said with a shrug. "Is everyone alright? Rand, Perrin, Nynaeve?"

"Aye, they're fine," he replied quickly, then frowned slightly. "At least, they were when I last saw them. Rand's in Shayol Ghul with Nynaeve and Moiraine. Perrin–"

"Moiraine?" Neya asked with a start.

"Oh. I guess you don't know about that. Well, turns out she was stuck in the Finn realm. I got her out," he muttered.

Neya chuckled softly. "That explains the missing eye." Mat gave her a sour one-eyed look. "And Perrin?"

"I don't know. He said he had to do something, but I didn't inquire. There's been a lot going on, as you can imagine. They've just handed the command over to me," he told her with a grimace. "Neya, are you sure about Demandred? Taim has a point. The man's not all there. It's obvious even from a distance."

"And I already confirmed as much. Just… trust me on this. Please?"

Her brother sighed. "I could probably straighten things out, with a wagonload of my legendary luck, but with him on our side… The battle would be all but won. Provided that Rand doesn't screw up, of course," he amended. "If he does, we're all doomed."

"Then we'd better make sure everything works out here, in case he does succeed. It would be ironic, if he defeated the Dark One only to realise we've all ended up in Trollocs' cook pots."

"Exactly," Mat said with a smirk. "But if we're going to get Demandred over, we should do it soon, before the rest of his armies are gathered for the big finale and he decides to strike."

"Neya?" Jay called from behind her. "I think I found it, but you might want to release his bond before I sever the thing. It hurts like a…" He cleared his throat. "That is to say, it's quite painful."

"Don't worry about the bond. Just do it," she told him firmly. "We're wasting time."

Mazrim glanced at her dubiously but said nothing. Jay shrugged and focused his attention back on Mazrim. There was a moment of complete silence; everyone in the tent seemed to be holding their breath. Then Mazrim went down on his knees, grunting in pain. She stalked toward him. If what she felt through the bond was any indication, masked as it was, he must be in agony. She knelt in front of him, clutching his arm. Light, but she hated to see people suffer, him most of all. "It's alright. You're doing fine," she whispered comfortingly. "We'll just have to wait a moment before I Heal the madness caused by the taint. The pain might fog your brain and make it more complicated."

"Neya, we don't have time for that now," Egwene broke in gently. Neya turned to glare at her. "It's not a priority. It will have to wait until the battle is over."

Neya jumped back to her feet. Mazrim let out a weak chuckle, as if he hadn't expected anything else. That was likely the case. How could she have been so stupid? She just never learned. "And what about him?" she asked sharply, pointing to the golden-haired boy – she hadn't caught his name, but given the way he shadowed Egwene, he was likely her Warder. "Do you want me to wait until it's all over before I Heal him as well?"

Egwene frowned at her. "Gawyn? He's not sick."

"Oh? Does he always look like a bloodless corpse, then?" Neya told her wryly.

Egwene turned to Gawyn, still scowling. She looked at the boy as if she had never seen him before. She must have been exhausted, not to notice his alarming pallor. "Mother, there's nothing wrong with me," he muttered angrily. "She's just trying to appeal to you."

Egwene was obviously struggling internally, but eventually she shook her head. "He's just tired, Neya. We all are. We've been at it much longer than you know." She let out a small sigh. "We can't afford to Heal anything but the most grievous injuries right now."

"That's not fair, and you know it! You promised to let me Heal him," Neya said through clenched teeth. "And don't give me your Aes Sedai speech on stating the truth creatively. I know you didn't say _when_ I could do it, but I'm not in the mood for your mind games, _Mother_." She threw the word in her friend's face like a curse.

"Neya," Egwene said softly, "you're one the best Healers we have, one of the _last_ Healers we have. We can't afford to let you use up all your energy on him just before the last stand begins."

"She's got a point," Mazrim said. He was back on his feet, although he didn't look too steady. Neya gave him a look that, she hoped, conveyed all the annoyance and irritation she felt at that instant. His sudden grin told her it did.

Neya whirled back to Egwene. "Eggs, you've just removed the only thing that kept the madness at bay," she said, unable to keep a trace of despair from her voice. "What if he… What if…" She couldn't put her thought into words.

"I've fought it off for over a decade, love. One more day won't make much difference," Mazrim told her quietly. He'd never called her that before, when she was still at the Black Tower. It made her feel incredibly sad, for some reason. Mat was glaring at him. Hadn't he yet realised that they were lovers? He could be so thick, sometimes.

"If we're going to make contact with Demandred, we have to do it now, before it's too late," Egwene told her urgently.

" _Bajad drovja_!" Neya cursed. Mat looked at her in astonishment and Jay snorted with laughter.

"You certainly didn't learn _that_ from Demandred," the reformed Forsaken said. "That sounds like something Sammael would say. Did you share his bed as well?" he asked her nastily, but regretted it immediately when Mazrim clouted him on the ear.

"Can we focus on the task at hand, please?" Egwene said, fixing her eyes on Neya. "How do you want to proceed? Do you know how to make this… window… you spoke of?"

"Ah… no, but he probably does," Neya replied, gesturing toward Jay.

The man sneered at her. "Of course I know how, but I'm not strong enough to actually open one."

"Then show the weaves to Logain and he'll do it," Neya told him impatiently. She'd forgotten how irritating he could be, sometimes.

Logain stepped forward and Jay must have done as requested because a few seconds later, a sort of gateway appeared. It looked exactly like a gateway, in fact, but felt as solid as a wall when you touched it. Weaves couldn't get through, either. Bao claimed he had come up with the idea first, in the beginning of the War of Power, when he still fought for the Light. Thankfully, Logain hadn't opened the window into Bao's tent right away; this was just a test. Egwene and the golden-haired pregnant girl – she really should have asked Jay for everyone's name while they waited outside – both walked up to it and put a hand inside of it, or tried to. Egwene embraced the Source and channeled a thread of Air that melted when it came in contact with the surface of the window. Both women nodded in satisfaction, but one of the younger-looking Aes Sedai stepped forward. "What about the True Power, Mother?"

Egwene turned to Neya, but it was Jay who answered. "Nothing can get through, Aes Sedai, I assure you. Demandred spent quite a lot of time experimenting with these."

The Amyrlin nodded. "Whenever you're ready," she told Neya. "Just tell us what to do."

"Ideally, nothing. Let me talk, make no sudden movement and, if you really have to speak, do not interrupt him. Or me, for that matter. Don't curse," Neya added, glancing at Mat. "And of course, don't channel, or even touch the Source. It can't go through the window," she said before Egwene could speak, "and he probably won't be able to tell, but I'd rather not take any chances. He'll be angry enough as it is, there's no need to infuriate him any more than is strictly necessary." 'Angry' was a mild word for it. He would be enraged. She could only hope he'd let her talk before acting on his emotions. "Before we begin, I just want to make sure that we're clear on the terms," she said, glaring at Egwene. "He will never be prosecuted, harmed or gentled. Or executed." She spared a second to wonder why no one was curious to know why she was so insistent on keeping him alive. Not that she complained – if at all possible, the extent of her relationship with Demandred would be kept secret until the battle was over, mainly because it would only further convince them that she was his puppet. "I will negotiate for Sakarnen – the _sa'angreal_ – to be handed over and his armies to fight for the Light. After the battle, he will be exiled to Shara, like Mazrim. And he will retain the right to his crown, because even if you disagree with that, there's not much you can do to prevent it. His link to the Dark One will be severed, and I'll insist that's the first thing we'll see to. Furthermore, the people of Shara will not be judged for following Bao." She fell silent, expecting cries of protest, but none came.

The golden-haired girl did have something to add, however. "If we're really doing this, we should at least have him sign the Dragon's Peace, as King of Shara, although it's unlikely that he'll consider it as the binding agreement it is. I still don't think it's a good idea, Mother."

"I don't know what the Dragon's Peace is," Neya said with a shrug, "but I'm sure I can get it signed. But Eggs, I need your word that it will be those terms, exactly. No loopholes, no craftily hidden lies."

Egwene nodded solemnly and spoke without hesitation. "By my hope of salvation and rebirth, I agree to those exact terms, in the name of all who serve the Light."

Neya let out a small sigh of relief. That was a binding oath if she'd ever heard one. "You should all stand back." When they complied, she took a deep breath and gestured for Logain to proceed.

* * *

The window opened inside Bao's tent, but the man himself wasn't there. Shendla was, however. "Ah, there you are," the older woman said with her usual brisk manner. "I was wondering when you'd show up, girl." Neya couldn't help a grin. That was one weight off her chest, at least. "Have you cut an acceptable deal with your people?" She was sensible enough to use the Common Tongue.

"I have indeed. Is he nearby?" Before the last word was out of her mouth, Bao appeared beside Shendla, still wearing his ludicrous armour.

His face looked like thunder – although, admittedly, it might not have been obvious to anyone but Neya. Instead of addressing her, however, he turned to Shendla. "You lied to me," he murmured dangerously, in coarse Sharan dialect.

Shendla arched an eyebrow. "Did I? I told you that the girl was important, Bao, that you needed her to fulfil your destiny," she answered in the same language. "You assumed it meant she would ultimately help you achieve your goal, to kill the dead man, the _ulikar_ 's prophesised Dragon, but I never said that. I said she would help you save us. That is exactly what she's doing. I'm afraid your arrogance and self-confidence got the better of you." Neya could feel the people gathered behind her itching to ask what was being said.

"I should kill you where you stand," Bao went on, in the Common Tongue this time. There was a nervous rustle in the command tent.

"Bao, don't," Neya cut in hastily. "Please. It was my idea. Shendla had nothing to do with it. She didn't know."

Finally, he turned to her. She almost wished he hadn't. No one else would recognise the stricken look in his eyes, but she could. How had she ever thought him cold and devoid of emotions? "How _dare_ you? You took an oath!" he told her harshly, in the Sharan dialect once more.

"Yes, I did," she answered in the same language. "I swore to care for you and to always act in your best interest. What do you think I'm doing?" she replied fiercely, her voice almost as dangerous as his. That was the worst thing he could have said. How dare _he_ imply that she was breaking her vows? "Do you remember what _you_ swore?"

His face took on that stony expression she knew too well. The sudden silence lingered ominously. "I will crush your puny allies, and you will watch them burn," he said eventually, in the Common Tongue. Before she could think of a reply, he stalked away.

Neya stared after him for a moment. That was not how she had expected this meeting to proceed. It wasn't like him to run away from a fight, even a verbal one. Absurdly, Shendla was smiling. The woman smiled about as often as Bao did. "You have done well, girl."

"I have?" Neya asked incredulously.

"Obviously. We would all be dead, otherwise. It'll take some time for him to admit he was wrong. He _is_ a man, after all," she added with a faint chuckle. Without another word, she followed Bao outside.

Neya considered their exchange thoughtfully. In truth, Shendla had a point. Despite his harsh words, he hadn't done anything besides making an empty threat. Inside the command tent, no one was talking.

"That went well," Mat said sarcastically after a minute, finally breaking the silence.

"What did they say?" the golden-haired girl asked. "Did you even _mention_ the deal?"

"Why didn't you ask them to speak in the Common Tongue, girl?" That was from the youthful Aes Sedai with the faint Tairen accent. Suddenly, everyone was talking at the same time, urging Neya to translate the whole conversation, while the tall, handsome man dressed in white accused her of trying to deceive them. Galad, she thought Egwene had called him earlier.

Egwene raised her hands and ordered them all to be silent. Turning to Neya, she asked for the gist of it. "It's complicated," Neya said with a small sigh. "You see, that woman, Shendla, she's been trying to put him on the right path practically since she met him, but she had to be subtle about it. She had to humour him. I told you about the Prophecies. He's just been interpreting them the wrong way, is all. Hopefully he'll realise that, and soon."

"You trust her, then? This Shendla?" Egwene asked.

"I do. And I have at least three other allies among their ranks. Also, the Freed are utterly devoted to Bao, but I'll wager they're not too happy at having to side with the Trollocs, no more than the rest of the army. Bao never mentioned he would have them fight for the Shadow." Mazrim made his way to her while she talked, and she smiled at him before facing Egwene once more. "They know to expect something, but I couldn't be specific. I wasn't sure that you would even hear me out," she went on. "He needs to cool off. He'll come back once he's regained his composure. I can't promise you that he'll agree, however, and whatever Shendla said, there's no telling that he won't decide to go on a killing spree, if only in petty retaliation. He can be… unpredictable… at times." That was an understatement, but they didn't need to know that.

"Then we wait," Egwene said, "but not for long. If he hasn't come back in an hour, we'll have to start making preparations. And I intend to make use of your knowledge of him and his armies, should he refuse," she added woodenly. Neya nodded curtly. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. If she had to actually betray him… No, she wouldn't consider that, not unless she had to.


	61. I find your lack of faith disturbing

Shendla sat down across from Bao. He was meditating, or appeared to be. She had hoped Mintel would be there, but she hadn't seen the old man in a while. The girl – she really ought to think of her as her Queen, she knew, but Neya was half her age or less, for crying out loud! – had really done well. She had wormed her way inside Bao's heart as surely as a maggot crawls inside a corpse's flesh. This might actually work.

"I hope you don't intend to plan your next move solely on the fact that your pride was pricked," she said casually.

"Why do you think I am meditating for, woman?" He was never rude to anyone unless he was truly upset. He took a long, calming breath, but didn't bother to open his eyes. "How long have you two been conspiring this?" he asked again.

"Oh, we never discussed it. It was all her idea, just like she said. Did you really expect her to stand idly by? She must have at least tried to persuade you to turn your cloak before."

"More than once," he replied softly. "I thought I had finally convinced her that my way was the right one."

"Nobody thinks that." He opened his eyes at that and scowled at her. Good grief! It was worse than she had assumed. How far did his delusions ran? "What?" she asked him crisply. "Did you truly believe that your people were happy to find themselves fighting alongside these creatures of nightmare?" she went on, gesturing toward the area where the Shadowspawn had temporarily set up camp. He didn't answer. "They follow you because you are the Wyld. They execute your orders because they assume that, ultimately, you will reveal your true intentions, which would ideally involve fighting _against_ the monstrosities. The fact that they're still here despite their uneasiness is a testament of the faith and loyalty they have in you. They're your people, Bao. They depend on you. Don't disappoint them." With that, she got back on her feet. The… Queen… had played her part in this little scheme, and now Shendla had played hers. The rest was up to him. Without another word, she left him to consider his next move.

* * *

He had always hated waiting. He could be very patient when he needed to be, or at least appear so, but the wait was killing him. Every soldier in history probably agreed with him. He wanted to talk to Neya, but he wasn't sure what to say, or where to begin. In the end, she saved him the trouble.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not at all. I'm fine," he assured her. "Neya, do you really believe that's a good idea, to send both Demandred and myself to Shara, if he decides to join the Light? I can't help but think the man isn't particularly fond of me," he said wryly. Not to mention that he, M'Hael – or should he call himself Mazrim once more? Yes. Neya would prefer that, certainly – hated the other man, if only for ever touching Neya. He didn't say that out loud, however.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think it's a grand idea." She sounded serious. "Shara's vast, you know. Almost as vast as the Westlands put together. You could both live there for hundreds of years and never once run into each other. But that's beside the point. I have projects for the land, and for you, if you're interested."

"Projects?" he repeated with a frown. "What kind of projects?"

"I won't go into details now, but we have plans to improve many things over there. And you're just the man to help with that," she told him.

"We? As in… you and Demandred?" She nodded. "What have you been up to all this time, exactly?" Judging from the way she'd addressed Demandred earlier – even if he hadn't understood the words – he could tell she was holding something back from him. Their relationship seemed even more intricate than he'd assumed.

The bond sent out a wave of sudden apprehension. Neya lowered her eyes, biting her lower lip. "I've been crowned Queen of Shara," she muttered eventually.

"You're the Queen." She nodded slowly. "He made you his Queen," he repeated. He was having trouble thinking clearly. Neya closed her eyes, obviously bracing herself. "But if he's the King, and you're the Queen…" He trailed off. No, she couldn't mean…

"We're married, yes," she told him softly, finally looking up at him. He felt his heart skip a beat or two.

What was the point of going to Shara with her if he couldn't _be_ with her? She was the only person in the world he cared about, and now she belonged to another man. Not just any other man, either. "Mazrim, I know how it sounds, but there's more than that." She put a hand on her belly. He'd caught her doing that a few times already. Was she pregnant, on top of everything else? Peace! Obviously she'd read that particular thought through the bond, or maybe it was plain on his face. "It's not his. It's yours," she said quietly.

He stared at her in astonishment for a moment before he found his voice again. "How do you know it's mine?" he asked her, perhaps more harshly than he'd intended.

"Because the midwife confirmed I was twenty-two or twenty-three weeks along. It can't possibly be anyone else's. Or do you think I was bedding someone else during my time at the Black Tower?" she demanded dangerously.

"I know you weren't," he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just… Neya, it's a lot to take in. I don't know how I feel right now."

"I know, I'm sorry," she said more gently. "Light, I wish I could just…" She trailed off, indicating his head, then shook her head in frustration.

He put his hand on her arm. Light, how he'd missed her. "I know. But al'Vere is right. You have to save up for the actual fighting," he told her. "If I were to lose an arm or a leg in the battle, I would like to know you were not too exhausted to attend to that," he went on teasingly.

"Like I would let that happen," she told him fiercely.

He grinned at her. Then he remembered what they'd been talking about. Peace, she was carrying his child! He felt the smile slide off his face. "What a mess," he muttered.

"That's one word for it," Neya agreed. "Mazrim, did you send the girls away after I left?"

"No, of course not. Not away from the Tower, anyway. I told them to stay away from me and the Asha'man, to keep close to Logain's men. Well, they weren't his men back then, but they were clearly not mine. I suppose they were still yours. I figured they'd be safer that way. I hoped they would be. I haven't seen them since I was… deposed." Suddenly, he felt very tired. He put both hands on Neya's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "I Turned Vinchova. I killed him. I killed Nalaam too. And–"

She cut him off by placing a finger on his lips. "I know you've done horrible things, and I know you will feel awful about it when I'm finally allowed to Heal you. We can talk about it later, we will talk about it, but not now. I can't talk about that now. Alright?"

"Alright," he agreed. Casting about for a lighter topic of conversation, his eyes fell on Asmodean, who was studying them, although he stood too far to hear anything. "Were you involved with him?" he asked curiously. The bond gave off a wave of annoyance. "I mean," he added hastily, "I have no idea what happened to you before we met. I assumed you'd just arrived from that _ta'veren_ -breeding village of yours."

"I'd love to discuss my previous romantic relationships with you, but can we maybe do that another time? It's hardly the time or place," she said dryly.

"So it _was_ a romantic relationship," he put in. She rolled her eyes irritably.

"What about you?" she asked abruptly. He frowned questioningly. _What about me?_ "Have you been with someone else while I was away?" she asked with false detachment.

That made him laugh. "Why, yes, of course. So many people, you wouldn't believe," he told her sarcastically. She gave him a nasty look. "Honestly, what do you think?" he asked, more roughly this time. "Just because you bed every man you encounter, that doesn't mean I do the same." The words were barely out of his mouth that he wished he could swallow them back.

He expected her to be angry, but she just looked sad; he could feel it through the bond. That was even worse, actually. "Alright, calm down. I was just kidding," she said dejectedly. "The situation is what it is, Mazrim. I'm _ta'veren_. It can't be helped. I know it looks terrible, but we'll work it out. Somehow, we'll work it out," she repeated softly, almost to herself.

* * *

Bao closed his eyes once more as Shendla retreated inside the tent. He sought the Oneness, but for the first time in his life, it eluded him. Darkness within! His mind was roiling. How could they do that to him? He had trusted them, allowed them to see the part of him he never revealed to anyone else.

He could only blame himself. You could not trust anyone; that had been Elan Morin's motto, even before the Collapse. Bao believed that greatness could only be achieved if you trusted the right people, if you chose your loyal followers meticulously. That was why he had eventually decided to settle in Shara, despite its off-centre position. These Westlanders were backstabbers, only aiming at personal gain, lost in their manoeuvres as they attempted to play _Daes Dae'mar_. In short, they were useless. Of course, the female Ayyad were not much better, but they were still more sensible and practical than these so-called Aes Sedai. They all reminded Bao of his contemporaries of the Age of Legends: hypocritical, obsessed with status, always competing to find out who was the most renowned of them all. All in all, Bao reflected, that had been the real problem he had with Lews Therin. The man was phony. He used his smarts for all the wrong purposes.

Everyone in those days had been so certain, or perhaps they had convinced themselves, that they lived in a flawless world. Bao had seen the truth of that during his many travels. In the end, Elan had had the right of it. Bao had thought him mad even then, but he was right. They had needed the change brought on by the drilling of the Dark One's–

Bao opened his eyes, startled. He had not used that phrase since he had sworn his soul to the Shadow. Or had he? He could not remember. Just the previous day, he had thought of himself as one of the Forsaken. Perhaps it had been a mistake to allow Neya to utter those terms so freely after all.

His mind kept wandering; it seemed unable to focus on anything, or instead focused on every little thing. There would be no meditating for him today, not until he made up his mind. He stood up and found Mintel sitting cross-legged nearby. The _abrishi_ was simply resting, however, not meditating. His eyes opened the moment Bao paused beside him. "Trouble, my son?" he asked, looking up.

"Were you aware of their ploy, old man?"

"If you are referring to the fact that your wife decided to cast her lot with the other side, you will forgive me if I do not sympathise. Even a blind man would have seen it coming," he said with a chuckle.

"So you did know," Bao muttered. Blast the man! He thought it was _amusing_?

"Why does it upset you so much, son? It makes perfect sense to me, to everyone here. Only you fail to see it. It was meant to be," Mintel said. "The Prophecies demand that you save us, and the Tapestry has brought you the person you needed to accomplish your destiny."

"Don't give me that nonsense, old man!" Bao roared. He rarely let his anger get the better of him, but it seemed everyone had decided to try his patience this day. "I don't care for your Prophecies, for Kongsidi, for all that biased drivel of yours! Don't you see? I have been using you. I told you that before, I told Shendla, but you wouldn't heed my words. Heed them now! I have come here for one purpose, to end he who calls himself the Dragon Reborn. Nothing else – nothing! – matters to me."

Mintel looked at him impassively as he spoke. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, but he said nothing. That infuriated Bao even more. "Do you have any idea what she's asking of me? I have dedicated the last years of my life to make this happen. I abnegated _everything_ for this very purpose. And she wants me to forsake it all? I will _not_ give up now, not for her, not for anyone," he went on scornfully. "I will never surrender to Lews Therin."

"And what about what _she_ gave up for you?" Mintel asked quietly. "Do you think it cost her nothing? How do you believe she felt at placing her life in your hands, when she knew exactly who you were, what you would do, what you would ask of her?" Bao opened his mouth to retort, but Mintel raised a hand. "You act like a child. Think, son, think! Is this really all you want from life? To exact petty vengeance for a crime you cannot even define, and which was perpetrated by a dead madman? What do you hope to find, when you finally accomplish that, Bao? Whatever it may be, I can assure you, you will not attain it. Vengeance will not quench your anger, it will only inflame it. There is a saying. 'Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.'" The _abrishi_ directed a stern look at Bao. "You have a responsibility toward us, and toward Neya. You have committed yourself to her in the most sacred of manners." Abruptly, he stood up. It always amazed Bao how spry the old man was. "I trust you will make the right decision. I have faith in you, son." Before Bao could think of something to say, Mintel walked away.

He had to clear his mind. Usually, he would seek Neya's help for that, but given the circumstances… He made his way to the female Ayyad's camp instead. Saseko would be there.

* * *

The Two Rivers certainly produced fine women, Lan reflected as he watched Egwene discuss battle plans with Mat. And Neya… She reminded him of his wife. Nynaeve was so incredibly caring, although she went through great pains to hide it.

He was uncertain, to say the least, as to Demandred's potential defection from the Shadow, but if it could be done… He had been considering taking on the man himself ever since Demandred started calling out for al'Thor to face him. He might not like it, but he recognised himself in the Forsaken. Lan knew what it was to be consumed with something so completely that you would put aside everything and everyone. He would forever be grateful to Nynaeve for showing him that he was still capable of feeling. Well, for that amongst other things.

Could Neya truly have managed to accomplish the same feat with Demandred? Could she have broken through the man's shell and found a heart in there? If anyone could believe it possible, it was Lan.


	62. Our choices show what we truly are

Neya saw Mat approach and raised a hand before he could speak. "I know, I know, the hour's up." She sighed. "Fine. I suppose I was wrong. Can we at least arrange for my people to come over? If Bao finds out that they were in on this, he will destroy them. If he hasn't already," she added reluctantly. Light, let them be safe. If Bao hurt them because of her… No, surely he wouldn't do that.

Mat hesitated. "Neya, it's too risky. We can't open a bloody gateway in the middle of Demandred's camp just to get a few people out."

Neya narrowed her eyes at him. "Mat, I'm talking about _at least_ two thousand people, including channelers! That's got to count for something," she told him sharply. "I can't just abandon them!" She took a slow, calming breath. "Look. One of the male channeler is almost as strong as Bao, and two of the women are a match for Egwene. The mercenary, Torn, he can help with the planning, he's got experience. He knows how the Sharans fight."

"That's all well and good, but Demandred had plenty of time to set a flaming trap in case we decided to do just that," Mat explained. "The odds are not in our favour, alright? If we were going to do this, we should have done it sooner, right after your little chat with him, or even at the same time, while he was distracted. It's too late, now." He gave her an apologetic look.

She would not relent, however. "It will only take a few minutes. We open a gateway, tell them to gather everyone, and get them out." She gripped his arm. "Mat, I made a promise to these people. You don't have to help, just let me do it. Mazrim can open the gateway, and–"

Mat was shaking his head. "Blood and ashes, you're not listening to me! It doesn't matter who opens the flaming gateway, Neya. If Demandred set a trap, it could affect all of us, no matter how long it remains open or where you do it. Who knows what the bloody son of a goat is capable of? I'm telling you, we can't risk it. In any case," he went on, "Egwene knew you were going to ask, and she said no. I'm sorry." There was an obduracy in his voice that she knew only too well. Her brother was as stubborn as any Two Rivers man, possibly more. "Now don't do anything stupid, alright? I have enough to worry about. I will have you kept under guard if I have to," he threatened her, though not unkindly. She nodded tersely, and he walked away.

Light, what was she going to do? She closed her eyes. Maybe she should seek the Oneness, like Bao did. It might help. "Where do you want that gateway opened?" she heard Jay ask.

She opened her eyes and turned to face him. "We can't. Too dangerous," she said wistfully. She should have planned this better, made some kind of arrangement with Kalayaan and Taimaka in case she couldn't contact them. Burn her for a wool-headed fool!

"Since when do you listen when people tell you to do something?" he taunted her.

"Jay, now is not a good time to rile me up," she told him dangerously. "I've made a mess of things, there's no need to make it all worse."

Mazrim joined them, looking completely at ease despite the retinue of Logain's men that shadowed him. "What do we do now?"

"There's nothing to be done. It's over." She passed a hand through her hair in frustration. "At least you're here. That's something, I suppose."

"You're too kind," Mazrim said dryly. "Neya, we did warn you," he went on more softly. "The man is beyond saving."

He took a step closer to her, but one of his guards – was that Jonneth? The boy had grown since she last saw him – caught his arm. "Keep your distance, traitor," he muttered.

Mazrim rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he stopped where he was. He was about to speak when a gateway sprang open next to him. There was a commotion as the guards shouted for back-up and everyone came rushing out of the command tent.

Bao took it all in impassively. He was alone, but he was holding _D'jedt_.

Thank the Light, he was here. Well, she couldn't be certain he wasn't here to annihilate them all, but it was good to see him anyway.

Egwene was the first to speak. "Have you come to surrender, Barid Bel Medar?" Neya winced. Whatever Bao's intentions at this point, calling him by his former name was one of the worst things she could have done.

Bao didn't react to it, however, and kept his eyes on the Amyrlin. "What are the terms?" he asked her impassively. He stood utterly still while Egwene spoke, his face blank. Shendla joined him while the Amyrlin explained the terms they had devised, looking as stoic as Bao himself. He remained silent for a good minute when Egwene was done. "And how do you intend to sever my link to the… Great Lord, if I may ask?" The hesitation was almost imperceptible, but Neya heard it.

Egwene looked around for Jay and gestured for him to come closer. "I'll deal with that," the gleeman announced.

"You?" Bao said with a slight widening of his eyes, an impressive display of emotion for him. He really hadn't known that Asmodean still lived, Neya noted with surprise.

"Me," Jay answered with a grin. Neya knew Bao despised every single one of the Forsaken, but he held Asmodean in utter contempt. According to Bao, he was a vain, useless coward. He never understood how the man had even become one of the Chosen in the first place. "You must know what happened to me in Rhuidean," he went on. Bao made no reply. "Well, I know how al'Thor did it. We just cut M'Hael's connection, in fact," Jay said, cocking his head in Mazrim's direction.

Bao's eyes widened even further as he glanced toward the Saldaean, who waved at him with mock cheerfulness. Bao must have been more upset than she'd assumed, if he'd missed even that. His face quickly became emotionless once more, however. "I see. Is Moridin there as well?" he asked sourly.

Egwene shook her head. "We believe he's in Shayol Ghul, with the Dragon Reborn."

"If al'Thor really is in Shayol Ghul, who has command of your armies? Your Great Captains were Compelled, all of them." Neya frowned at him. He never used Compulsion unless he had to; had he been working together with Moghedien or Hessalam?

Mat stepped forward gingerly. "That would be me," he mumbled. "Mat Cauthon. Pleasure to meet you," he added wryly.

"Cauthon?" Bao repeated with a faint scowl, although it was gone in an instant. "I see," he said again. "I must make a few amendments to the terms you are proposing," he told Egwene. Neya could tell he had already decided to join them, but she knew he would never forgive her for her betrayal. She had known acting behind his back meant losing his trust, at the very least, but the fact that he ignored her entirely hurt more than she had imagined.

"Which points do you wish to debate?" the Amyrlin demanded. "I must warn you, the severing of your link to the Dark One is non-negotiable," she added coolly, "and it will be done the moment you step through that gateway."

"Evidently," Bao retorted matter-of-factly. "But I want to read that treaty you mentioned, that Dragon's Peace, before I sign it, and I will–"

Logain scoffed loudly. "We don't have time for this, Forsaken. You can look it over when the battle is done. Get to the point, man."

"You will not interrupt me again," Bao said dangerously, glaring at him. Logain returned his gaze without blinking. The younger man was brave, if not always sensible. "I cannot agree to sign the document unless I have had the chance to read it entirely, Mother," Bao went on calmly, addressing Egwene once more. It still amazed Neya sometimes, how polite he was, even toward his detractors. It never failed to stun Galbrait, back in Shara.

"That is acceptable. You will be given a copy after the battle. The signing is not optional, but compromises might be worked out, should the need arise," Egwene told him cautiously.

"Furthermore, I cannot agree to be exiled to Shara indefinitely," Bao went on.

That caused an uproar. Everyone started talking at once. Egwene had to call out for silence twice before they complied. She turned to Bao. "It is a reasonable condition. I understand that you have declared yourself King of Shara?" she went on, arching an eyebrow questioningly. Bao nodded. "Then why would you refuse to be exiled there? Surely you do not anticipate to be welcomed in the Western lands, even if you join us now. The people will expect us to condemn and execute you, no matter what amends you make. Considering that, exile is an extremely mild measure," Egwene explained. "Or are you afraid of what your own people might do, when you return? I seem to understand that they are not too happy at having to side with the Trollocs," she went on shrewdly.

Bao gave her a level look. "Not at all," he replied truthfully. "I simply believe that shutting us out would be a mistake in the long run. I intend to open Shara to commerce and Traveling in the near future, and I think it would benefit everyone if we could find common ground in this matter. I do have a remarkable number of years yet to live. If you confine me in Shara and refuse any contact or trade because of that, everyone will lose something in the bargain." That was certainly not what they had expected. They were all staring at him in bewilderment. "I assume that this… Dragon's Peace… is a treaty designed to keep everyone out of their neighbours' land and, as its name seems to indicate, to keep the peace between all nations involved," he continued. When no one contradicted him, he went on. "I have no intention to claim any land or to wage war unless provoked. Shara is quite large, and there is more work to be done there than I could hope to achieve in a lifetime, I assure you." He trailed off, waiting for someone to dispute him.

Egwene shook her head slightly. "We cannot be held responsible if something untoward were to happen to you when you visit the Western lands," she said quietly. Everyone turned to look at her incredulously, Neya included. Was she really going to agree to this? The golden-haired woman – Elayne Trakand, Mazrim called her; apparently, she was Queen of Andor – seemed about to choke in outrage.

"Of course," Bao said in acknowledgement. "I would also like to expand that condition to M'Hael," he told them. This time it was Logain who looked ready to suffocate. Egwene raised a hand to prevent anyone from interrupting, although she seemed as puzzled as everyone else. "It was your intention to exile him to Shara, was it not?" How did he know that? He had seemed so surprised to see Mazrim, earlier. He didn't wait for an answer. "When he is there, he will be roped in and will likely be required to Travel as well. I can't have him bound in Shara," he explained.

Egwene considered this for a moment. "As you wish. Now, I must insist that we move on. Time is of the essence. Do you agree to the other terms as they were presented to you?" Bao nodded. "Then by my hope of salvation and rebirth," she said for the second time that day, "I swear in the name of all who serve the Light that the terms will be observed, if you fulfil your end of the bargain. Of course, you will be shielded until your link to the Dark One is severed," she added. Bao nodded again. "Then you may come through," Egwene told him solemnly. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Bao whispered something to Shendla then took three steps forward and stopped beside Neya. He didn't glance down at her. Egwene shielded him, and the gateway winked out. She gestured for Jay to do what he was supposed to. The musician smirked at Bao, who simply gazed at him expectantly. Neya couldn't see what he was doing, but she saw Jay's eyes widen in astonishment when Bao didn't even flinch. They were all silent for a moment. "Is it done?" Egwene asked eventually, frowning at Jay.

"I… Yes, Mother. I cut the… wire, just like I did with Taim." He looked baffled. Neya hid a smile behind her hand.

"He did, Mother," Logain confirmed. "He did the exact same thing he did before."

"Then it is done. Barid Bel Medar, we welcome you back to the Light," the Amyrlin said formally.

Bao acknowledged her words with a nod. "We should begin making plans," he said without preamble.

"Indeed. Please, join us in the tent to discuss the new battle plans with Marshal-General Cauthon." _Marshal-General?_ Neya wondered. Was that Mat's actual title, or was Egwene just trying to impress Bao? "Who do you suppose will be taking command of the Shadow's armies, now that you are here?"

Bao thought that over. "It will be either Moghedien or Hessalam, if Moridin does not come back," he told her. "When I last heard from her, Hessalam was on the front at Shayol Ghul. I do not know where Moghedien is hiding at the moment."

"Hessalam?" Egwene said with a frown. "It means… 'without forgiveness', doesn't it?"

"Graendal," Bao explained. "She was punished for her failures and given a new body. You should be able to recognise her easily enough. She is the ugliest woman you could imagine."

"I see," the Amyrlin replied tersely. "Master Taim, Master Natael," she went on, turning to each man as she said their name, "you will join us as well. You too, Neya." Without waiting for an answer, she walked back inside the tent, followed by the others.


	63. I would rather be happy than dignified

Jasin waited for Neya to catch up to him and Taim before following the Amyrlin inside the command tent. None of them spoke. Inside, Cauthon was already looking at the map and talking with Demandred. He still couldn't believe his former associate had turned over to the Light. Of all of them, he had been sure he was the less likely to renounce the Shadow, especially now.

"What am I supposed to help with?" Neya muttered. "I don't know anything about war."

"They probably just want you to confirm or infirm whatever Demandred tells them about his army," Taim whispered back as they made their way toward the assembled leaders. "They don't trust him, no more than they trust me."

"And you really think they trust _me_?" she asked with a snort. Taim shrugged.

Cauthon looked up when his sister walked in. "Neya, how many people are there in the Sharan army, exactly? Do you know?"

Obviously, he had already asked Demandred the same question, but the older man didn't say anything. Neya was looking at Demandred, but he ignored her. She sighed. "A handful of male channelers, about four hundred female Ayyad and I'm guessing about six or seven thousand soldiers of all sorts."

"Can you be a little more specific? How many archers, horsemen, foot soldiers?" Cauthon prompted her impatiently.

"I have no idea, Mat. I know I should have gathered better intelligence, but I guess I botched that part," she said bitterly. "In any case, he knows the exact numbers," she added, cocking her head toward Demandred. "He has no reason to lie."

Cauthon eyed her doubtfully. "As you say. How soon do you think your replacement will show up, whoever it is?" he asked Demandred.

"We must assume that they are already in place, whoever they might be," Demandred replied calmly. "We need to act fast. I must relocate my army, away from the Shadowspawn, and M'Hael's followers must be dealt with as soon as possible, before they can be organised to mount an attack."

Neya was studying the map, frowning. "Given the current disposition, aren't you afraid Lilen might pull the same trick she used in M'Jinn in the second year of the War?" she asked in a low voice. Everyone stared at her, and she seemed to suddenly realise she'd spoken aloud. How could she possibly…? Could Elan have told her about that? Blushing slightly, the girl shrugged. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Moghedien had nothing to do with what happened in M'Jinn," Demandred said without looking at Neya. "It was another of the Chosen, Dhjin."

Neya frowned at him. "No, I'm fairly certain it was Lilen. Elan said that that Dhjin fellow died in a skirmish earlier the same day, and he ordered Lilen to take over his forces. She might have disguised herself as the dead man, I suppose. Apparently, she does that a lot." Demandred finally looked up to stare at her. For that matter, everyone else did. Jasin was about to speak, to tell them she was in fact correct, but al'Thor's half-brother forestalled him.

"Elan?" Galad Damodred repeated roughly. "Isn't that the name the Forsaken Ishamael abandoned when he pledged his soul to the Dark One? Elan Morin Tedronai?"

Neya looked taken aback for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "It is. It was. I… spent some time with him," she admitted. "Before I came to Rhuidean, I was his captive."

"Light have mercy!" Damodred hissed. "Are we really going to listen to this woman? She has been around the Forsaken for the Creator alone knows how long! Mother," he said, turning to the Amyrlin, "I understand that she was your friend, a long time ago, but she cannot be trusted. None of them can be trusted," he went on, indicating Demandred, Taim and even Jasin himself. As if he hadn't proven his loyalty time and again! "It's a trap, I'm certain of it. An elaborate one, but I wouldn't put it past the Forsaken to imagine something so twisted," Damodred told them fervently. "They're clearly working together to undermine us."

"Galad, please, calm down," the Amyrlin said quietly. "We cannot afford _not_ to trust them. We all agreed to this," she told him sternly.

"Reluctantly," Galad said. "Mother, did you know about the time she spent with Ishamael? Did _anyone_ know? What about the fact that she knew who this one was," he went on, pointing at Jasin, "when no one else did? And not to be crude, but it seems clear to me that she lay with at least some of them," he added with a contemptuous grimace.

"Hey now, you watch your tongue!" Cauthon warned him.

Neya raised a hand. "Actually, I bedded all four," she told Damodred sweetly. Cauthon's mouth fell open. In other circumstances, Jasin would have laughed. "Mat knew about Ishamael," Neya went on, "and Rand knew about Ishamael _and_ Jay – Asmodean, Natael, whatever you're calling him now. Rand sent me to the Black Tower and he brought Mazrim there himself. I also spent over a month in a cell in Lanfear's den, if you truly want to know everything. And before you ask, no, I didn't bed _her_ ," she spat out sourly. "I'm _ta'veren_ , pretty boy, and I'll wager I've been through a bloody lot more than you have in the past two years. To the Pit of Doom with your scorn and flaming righteousness!" She was panting by the time she was done. Taim placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured something inaudible to everyone else. Neya closed her eyes in an obvious attempt to calm herself.

"It's all true," Jasin put in quickly. "Al'Thor knew everything. It's not her fault that he chose not to tell anyone else. Give her a break, boy," he added firmly when Damodred tried to retort.

"Can we go back to the battle?" Cauthon asked, clearly anxious to change the subject. "Neya, what did you mean earlier? About M'Jinn?"

"Bao can explain better than I," she replied dismissively. "He was there. Moghedien defeated him, not long before he turned to the Shadow." As Bao launched into a short explanation, Neya walked a few steps away and sat down on the ground. Taim imitated her a moment later and, after making sure he wasn't needed – unlikely as it was – Jasin joined them.

When Taim saw Jasin sit, he interrupted the speech he'd been making. "Do you want some water?" he asked Neya instead.

She shrugged. "Don't go get some just for me."

"I could do with some wine," Jasin put in. Taim gave him a flat look, but he stood up. Jasin grinned after him. He was the kind of person Jasin liked to watch from behind. Neya chuckled softly and he turned his attention back to her. "What?" he asked innocently. "I'm just looking."

"Well, you can't," she told him. "He's mine." She said it with a smile, but he could tell she was only half-joking.

"I thought you and Demandred–"

"Yeah, well, that's not going to last, is it?" she said sharply. "Looks like I bungled everything with impressive thoroughness." Sighing, she took on a thoughtful air. "Although, come to think of it, if I can manage to salvage anything, it wouldn't be a bad idea…" She trailed off, studying him with calculating eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown.

"If I did manage to earn my place back at Bao's side, somehow, and you and Mazrim were to… ah… keep each other company…" She trailed off once more, blushing.

"I don't like where this is going."

"Why not? You would get along marvellously well. Besides, you and Bao will live for an approximately even number of years, just like Mazrim and I will. So, when you and Bao are both dead, we could be together," she went on with a perfectly straight face, although her cheeks were still red.

He stared at her for a second before bursting out laughing. He was dimly aware that Taim was back and scowling at him. "What's wrong with him?" Taim asked dryly. "Has the taint corrupted his mind as well? What could possibly be so amusing at a time like this?"

"Why, me, of course." Neya grinned up at him, taking the goblet of water he was offering. Taim snorted.

"Do you want to know what we were talking about?" Jasin asked, trying to keep his mirth contained.

Taim shrugged impassively, but Neya shook her head emphatically, which caused Taim to frown at her. "It was nothing," she said quickly, an even brighter blush slowly creeping on her cheeks. "Hardly the time or place," she muttered. She buried her face in her goblet as best she could.

Taim looked at him questioningly, clearly hoping for a more explicit answer, but Jasin spread his hands in apology. If Neya didn't want the him to know, it was better not to say anything. She was quite scary when she was angry. Besides, they would have plenty of time to talk about it later, Jasin thought with a faint smile.

* * *

Shendla took a small moment to congratulate herself. It had all worked out for the best.

Mintel was in Bao's tent. "He wants us to gather everyone and prepare to move. He says they will likely want us to settle in their camp, so they can keep an eye on us," Shendla told him.

"I will inform the generals. Will you see to the Ayyad?" Shendla nodded in assent.

The old man stood up easily and departed. She had been worried when she saw Bao stride toward the Ayyad's camp and realised he was heading for Saseko's tent. In fact, she had been ready to follow, unsheathe her blade and put an end to it right there and then. She wasn't sure if she would have killed the girl or Bao himself, but someone would have died, that was certain. She couldn't have let him ruin everything now, especially like _that_. She had followed him, and made her way almost to the Ayyad's camp, but Bao had stepped out of the tent a few seconds later. He stalked past Shendla without a word, looking determined. Curious, she had walked on and lifted the flap of the Darkfriend's tent. Saseko had jumped almost a foot in the air in fright, before giving Shendla a baleful glare. "What did he want with you, girl?" Shendla asked her sharply.

"I don't know," Saseko spat out. "He walked in unannounced and just stared at me for a moment," she said, "then he muttered something in this… Old Tongue… and stormed off. What is wrong with him?"

Shendla smiled at her, in a way that made the younger woman recoil slightly. "Nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact. Finally, he is doing the right thing." She had left the tent without another word, leaving the Darkfriend to puzzle out her meaning.

She made her way toward the Ayyad's camp once more. There was a lot to see to while Bao settled the terms of his… Well, it wasn't surrender. The man wasn't yielding or giving in. He was simply bending to the will of the Tapestry to fulfil his destiny, at long last, as was prophesised. Now the true battle could finally begin.


	64. Let's not bicker and argue

Mat frowned as Taim and Natael followed his sister and sat on the ground right beside her. What did they think they were doing? Surely she didn't mean what she'd said earlier about bedding them. _All_ of them. That had been simple provocation on her part. It had to be.

He couldn't believe she was here. _Ta'veren_ or not, all these things that kept happening to her were highly improbable – and that was coming from him. First she'd been taken by Ishamael, and she had survived that. Then she had been captured by Lanfear and had somehow escaped with her life once again. Mat had been furious when he'd come to announce his imminent departure and found only Natael – who turned out to be _Asmodean_ , burn the man – in the room the gleeman had shared with his sister in Cairhien. The man had been lofty and snappish, practically closing the door in Mat's face, before reluctantly explaining that Neya had been sent away by Rand to oversee this new insane project of his, namely the establishment of what was now the Black Tower. The bloody man had sent his baby sister to look after a bunch of raving male channelers! Mat had been ready to pull her out of there before she got herself killed, but Rand told him that it was Neya's idea and that she'd insisted. And she hadn't even bothered to let Mat know! Obviously she was perfectly aware that he would try to prevent her from going. Stubborn woman!

And _then_ , as Mat arrived at Merrilor and found out about Taim's betrayal, Rand told him that Neya disappeared months ago. Months! He had no clue where she was; no one from the Black Tower had been able to provide a proper explanation. And now this. What had she been doing in Shara all this time? It was enough for Mat to tear his hair out in frustration. Blood and ashes! He had to focus on the matter at hand.

The more he listened to Demandred's explanation, the more Mat realised that his sister might be right about Moghedien's potential course of action. If the Forsaken decided to make that particular move, or if she was already working on it… They had to act quickly.

"We need to deal with the rogue Asha'man before we do anything else," Mat muttered, interrupting Demandred. The man gave him a cold stare, but didn't speak. "If Moghedien or What's-her-name manage to organise them before we destroy them, we might still be in trouble. Do you know who's in charge of the Black Ajah?"

"We have to get Atal out of there before we attack, though," Neya called out before Demandred could answer.

"That's already dealt with," Taim replied. "I told him to leave before I left and to find the others, explain the situation." He grimaced. "I just hope they didn't kill him on sight." Logain snorted.

"Good," Neya said. "Mat, I'd rather not fight against them, if it's all the same to you. I know these men. Even if they're not particularly good ones, I'd rather not have to kill them." As if he was going to send her into battle!

"You cannot join the battle," Demandred cut in sharply without looking at her. Well, at least they agreed on that.

Neya gave the Forsaken a hard look and appeared ready to chew the man off, but Mat nodded hastily. "He's right, you know. You're our best Healer, we can't afford to lose you. We have to keep you safe, and that means you're staying behind." Neya shifted her wrathful gaze toward him, but he wouldn't budge. She could be bloody stubborn, but so could he.

Finally she nodded, although reluctantly. "Fine. I guess I should gather the Ayyad Healers and set up an emergency room somewhere." She stood up. "I'll get Taimaka. She can help with that."

"No," Demandred said firmly.

"Blood and ashes, Bao, are you going to argue over everything I say?" Neya retorted crisply. "She's as incompetent as I am with offensive weaves. She'll be more useful here."

"She's dead," Demandred muttered. Neya's eyes widened. Demandred didn't elaborate, but he glanced briefly in Egwene's direction. _Burn my eye, we can't afford that, not now!_ _There's no bloody time to lose!_

An awkward silence fell inside the tent.

* * *

Mazrim practically jumped to his feet at the sudden stab of grief that echoed inside the bond. Astonishingly, Neya's face was blank. It seemed she had learned a few tricks from Demandred during her time in Shara. Or maybe she was struck numb by the loss of her friend. At least, he assumed the dead woman had been a friend. He wouldn't put it past Neya to feel devastated by the death of someone she'd barely known. She truly cared too much about everything and everyone.

She was looking at the Amyrlin, who spread her hands helplessly. "Neya…" she began, obviously at a loss for words.

"No, I know," Neya said flatly, "I know." She fell silent once more.

"Most of our Healers were killed, but you could bring the male Ayyad over," Demandred told her quietly. How could the man let that happen? Healers were always kept out of the fighting. And he was supposed to be such a grand general! "They are too few to be of use in battle anyway. I will just keep Abrazo around." _Does he_ ever _use contractions?_ Mazrim wondered. It was oddly annoying. He was so bloody formal and rigid. How could Neya have fallen for him? The man couldn't even smile, for crying out loud!

"If I'm left alone with them, it won't be much use," Neya told him bitterly. "I can only link with one of them at a time."

"We could send some of the remaining Yellows to help. With them, you could expand the circle at need," the Amyrlin offered.

Neya nodded decisively. "Let's do that," she said firmly. "I'll go find Kalayaan." Kalayaan? Now who was _that_? Peace, let it not be yet another lover.

He started to follow as Neya walked out of the tent, but Logain called him back. "You stay right here, traitor. There's no evading the fighting for you. You're not essential enough to be left behind." Well, he hadn't expected to be. Shrugging nonchalantly, Mazrim joined the others near the map table.

* * *

Logain sneered at Taim. Had he really thought they would let him stay behind with Neya? The man truly was insane. Maybe they should have taken time to Heal him, if the girl knew how. He was dangerous enough when he was sane, but if they added the unpredictability factor to it, he could get out of control. And he wasn't even taking Demandred and Asmodean into account. Light! Three Forsaken fighting on their side. If Taim could be counted as one, so short had his performance been.

How could al'Vere and Cauthon trust them with anything? They should be shielded and kept under guard, the whole lot of them, Neya included. Or better yet, gentled and executed. How could anyone agree to such terms? None of them deserved to live. Well, maybe the girl could be forgiven; after all, it wasn't her fault if she'd been captured, brainwashed and otherwise submitted to her _ta'veren_ nature – which at least explained why she glowed like that.

There was nothing Logain could do about it, however. He wasn't in charge, and a good thing, too. Let the others deal with the wagonload of troubles those four would no doubt cause in the future – if they survived the battle. If anyone survived.

All he cared about now was who would get to wield that _sa'angreal_ Demandred had in his possession. Logain had felt it earlier, a power beyond his imagination. Surely the al'Vere girl wouldn't allow Demandred to retain the artefact, even during the battle, even under supervision. Logain was the most obvious choice: he was the only male channeler strong enough to wield it, the only trustworthy one, anyway.

Eventually, since no one seemed to be bringing it up, he decided to broach the topic, as subtly as he could. "Who will take care of the rogue Asha'man? Will you send all our channelers against them, even our latest acquisitions?" he asked Cauthon.

"Of course not. That'd be a flaming waste of resources," the commander of the forces of the Light replied colourfully. "We'll send your men and some of the Aes Sedai. The others can get started on the other Dreadlords. Plenty of those to go around, apparently," he muttered sourly.

Before Logain could ask about the _sa'angreal_ , Demandred spoke. He had a soft, quiet voice, but it was the sort of voice people would shut up to listen to without being asked. "Would it not be better to ally some of my people to some of yours? I expected you would want to keep an eye on us." Cauthon looked up at him. "We could pair the female Ayyad with your Asha'man, since they are so few," he went on, "and the Aes Sedai with M'Hael, Nessosin and myself, as well as another powerful male channeler from my own army."

"Who's Nessosin?" Cauthon asked with a scowl. Light, but the man could be dense. Who in the Pit of Doom had put _him_ in charge of all their armies?

"That'd be me, my Prince," Natael replied with a smirk.

Cauthon eyed him suspiciously, as if wondering if he was being made fun of, before turning back to Demandred. "Alright, I suppose. But I thought he'd been cut off or something?" he added, indicating Natael.

"You can address me directly, you know," Natael told him loftily. "I'm not 'cut off', I'm partially shielded. I had entertained a faint hope that the weave might vanish when Mierin – Lanfear – died, but it didn't. I don't suppose one of you could remove it?" he asked the Amyrlin.

"I'm afraid we don't have time to look into it, Master Natael," the girl replied coolly. At least she didn't seem to trust the man any more than she had to.

Natael sighed dramatically, spreading his hands wide. "Then I'm about as much use as…" He trailed off, frowning in concentration. "I can't think of anyone more useless than I would be in a fight right now, as a matter of fact," he finally admitted. It didn't seem to bother that he would have to stay behind. Bloody coward.

"You have become even more arrogant than before, if that is at all possible," Demandred said scornfully, "but you did not become any smarter, did you?" Natael glared at him in outrage. "Mierin was already using that shielding technique before the War of Power even started. Every one of the Chosen with half a brain has learned how to unravel it and prevent it altogether." Demandred turned to the Amyrlin. "If I may be allowed to channel, Mother?" he asked politely. He was too polite by half. Logain didn't like it. The girl nodded, and the hooked-nose man seized _saidin_ an instant later. He did something Logain couldn't quite follow; he was a fast weaver.

Natael was still glaring at the other Forsaken, although his sudden intake of the male half of the Source was much more impressive than it had been when he sliced Taim's link to the Dark One. By Logain's estimation, however, the Musician was still weaker than Logain himself. Natael looked relieved for a second, although he was quick to conceal it, lest Demandred notice.

"Is it done, then?" Cauthon asked impatiently. Demandred nodded. "Good. You go with the Aes Sedai, Logain and his men take your female channelers. Better if you deal with the rogue Asha'man," he added after a brief moment of consideration, cocking his head toward Demandred.

Logain was about to dispute him – he wanted to destroy every last one of those Darkfriends himself – but Demandred spoke again. "With Sakarnen, their end will be swift, you can be assured."

"Sakarnen, is that your fancy Power-enhancer?" Cauthon asked stupidly. Natael chuckled, but Demandred's face remained impassive. Did the man even know how to smile? He simply nodded. It was all Logain could do not to shake his head in despair. Cauthon, you Light-blinded fool, you can't let the bloody man keep the _sa'angreal_!

"I'm afraid I must intrude," the Amyrlin said. They all looked at her expectantly. "We already have a _sa'angreal_. Surely one would be enough for us. Logain and his men should have the other one." _Finally, someone with a smidge of common sense!_ Logain thought wryly.

He waited for Demandred to protest and was therefore surprised when the man nodded in approval. "Evidently. It is best to divide our resources evenly. Shall we?" he asked al'Vere.

"Yes, we have wasted enough time," the girl replied. Demandred bowed his head slightly in assent.

Taim started abruptly and turned in the direction Neya was, Logain assumed. Without warning, the Saldaean ran outside. The others all looked at each other in confusion, until they heard the girl cry out an instant later.


	65. Death is whimsical today

Neya walked out of the tent determinedly. So, they wouldn't let her fight, would they? She was fuming, but truth be told, she wasn't sure why. She didn't _want_ to fight. And as she'd pointed out earlier, she knew very little about offensive weaves of any sort. She was angry to be left behind, she supposed. She would have no clue as to what was happening on the battlefield if she stayed here, and she didn't like that. Any of them could get hurt at any moment, and they could be dead before she had a chance to Heal them, or to even reach them. In fact, she was probably more scared than angry.

She stopped a few steps outside the tent, cursing under her breath. How was she supposed to open a gateway to the Ayyad's camp? She still didn't know how. She was not looking forward to having to request a gateway, but as she turned toward the tent once more, she realised they had sent guards after her, two Asha'man. She didn't know the older one, but the other was Jonneth. "Jon, can you open a gateway for me? To Demandred's camp?" The young man complied after a brief hesitation.

The gateway opened on Kalayaan and Torn talking in low voices. They both turned to her expectantly, as if they'd been waiting for her. Shendla must have already let them know that they were about to come to the Light.

Torn grinned at her, so brightly that it took her a moment to notice his missing right forearm. She stared at it – or at its absence, really – but Torn shrugged it off casually. "''Tis but a scratch," he stated wryly. Kal gave him a flat look.

Neya was shaking her head in dismay. "I don't suppose you've got the missing part for me to attach back?" They spoke in Sharan dialect; Torn only had vague notions of the Common Tongue.

"Sorry, lass. I seem to have misplaced it," Torn replied with a chuckle.

Kal rolled his eyes. "What are the orders?" he asked Neya. "Shendla just came by to let us know Bao finally had an epiphany," he went on with a sneer. "She told us to gather everyone here and stay put until Bao came back."

"You and the other male Ayyad will stay here on the Western camp with me, to help with the Healing," she told him. "Except Abe. Bao wants him to fight."

"Without me?" Kal asked with a scowl. Neya nodded. "I don't like it. You know how he is when I'm not around."

"Tell that to Bao. I doubt he'll listen to me," she said with a grimace.

"Aw, don't you worry, lass. He'll be running back to you before you know it," Torn said sagely.

"I doubt that," she repeated. Better to change the subject. "Is everyone alright? Besides you, I mean. And Taimaka." She couldn't come to grips with her death. As a Healer, she should have been the least likely to get hurt.

"Yeah, we're fine. The Freed haven't taken part in the battle yet, and neither have we. Torn just had to go and be a hero," Kal said with irritation. "Or try to, anyway."

"Would have been one too, if I'd succeeded," the older man grumbled.

"He wanted to save Cailin, but Taimaka got there before him. Taimaka pushed the girl aside, but the weave hit her square in the chest. Torn was too late to do anything, but he received his own fireball for his trouble," Kalayaan explained. "I don't know what happened afterward. The rest of the Healers started running around like headless chickens, the blasted fools." He shook his head, as if he still couldn't quite believe how stupid people could be. "Anyway. What do we do with everyone?"

"I don't know yet. They're still making plans. I just came to get you," she told him. "Just do as Shendla said for the time being. It won't be long now."

"Is Bao really angry with you?" Kal asked curiously. "Shendla seemed almost impressed by you, and she usually looks anything but that. She said you handled him like a proper Queen."

She scoffed. Had the woman gone mad? "Are you kidding? He was ready to destroy us all after I spoke with him. They must have talked him into it somehow, Mintel and her." That was the only explanation. "Have you seen anyone that didn't belong in the camp in the last half hour or so?" They both frowned at her. "The other Forsaken will try to take advantage of Bao's defection from the Shadow," she explained. "They might show up, even in disguise, to take control of our army. For that matter, did Shendla appear to be her usual self?"

"For sure she did," Torn replied.

"Brisk and cutting as ever," Kal spoke almost at the same time.

"Good. I think we should already bring the Ayyad over before they're done in the tent. They'll be in a hurry to leave," she told them. "Are they all nearby?"

Kalayaan nodded curtly before turning around to gather his men. Abe was already there, looking confused. Kal explained what was expected of him. "You will follow Bao into battle," he told the big man, "and you must stay close to him. Do what he says and pay attention to what's happening around you. I will be right here waiting for you. Alright?" Abe nodded slowly and looked at Neya with a small frown. " _Ina_ will be staying with me. We'll be taking care of the wounded." Kal made him repeat his instructions twice before letting Abe go through the gateway. The others followed, but Kal stayed behind with Torn. "I'll go tell Shendla that everyone is ready to depart and that we're awaiting Bao's word. Then I'll help this one gather his troops," he added, cocking his head toward Torn.

"I can see to that myself, you know. It's my arm that's missing, not my tongue," the older man retorted.

"I wish," Kal said with a theatrical sigh. Torn let out a roar of laughter. Kalayaan smirked and turned his attention back to Neya. He was still smiling when the balefire hit him.

* * *

Bao ran out on M'Hael's heels when he heard Neya scream.

He lifted the tent flap just in time to see Torn jump out of a gateway and land in front of Neya. When he saw the pure, bright glare of balefire on the other side, Bao closed the gateway the young Asha'man maintained opened in his shock.

M'Hael was talking with Neya. She looked shaken and incredibly pale. For that matter, Torn did not look any better. "What happened?" he asked the mercenary.

"Blimey, I don't know," Torn said. "One moment he was there, and then he was gone. _Poof_ , just like that." He trailed off, shaking his head. Abruptly he sat down and held his face in his remaining hand.

So Kalayaan was dead, balefired away. Abrazo appeared distressed; he was searching around, presumably wondering where Kalayaan had gone. He didn't understand what had happened. Bao wasn't about to explain it to him at the moment. He needed the man to be able to focus. They needed to retaliate quickly. "Who was it? Did you see?" he asked Neya.

She interrupted her conversation with M'Hael and replied without looking at him. "Unless Shendla has suddenly developed an ability to channel the True Power, it was either Moghedien or Hessalam posing as her," she replied with a grimace. "The Freed were there. Light, the whole bloody army was there! They were all gathered in the same spot, at Shendla's orders, or so they thought." Darkness within! Had no one realised how dangerous it was, to gather everyone in the same place? Neya turned to face him. "Go. They need you," she said softly, staring into his eyes for a moment before crouching beside Torn.

Cauthon was already shouting orders behind him, calling for scouts and reports. Bao opened a small window inside his own tent, hoping to find Mintel, and caught sight of the _abrishi_ 's lifeless body lying on the ground. He quickly shut the window close. There would be time to mourn later. First, he had to avenge those who died for him and protect those who still lived.

He located his generals and found them struggling to maintain order; the whole camp appeared to be in turmoil. Darkness within! How had the other Chosen been able to act so fast?

Cauthon was beside him now. "You need to go," the boy commanded. "Egwene is ready. Grab Taim and Natael and that other man and take them with you. Now!" he barked insistently. He didn't wait around to see if he was being obeyed. There was nothing else to do but comply. He approached Abrazo and told the boy to keep close. The youth didn't argue and followed Bao docilely.

M'Hael and Nessosin were both talking with Neya now; she looked upset and angry. She was probably trying to keep them away from the fight. "We need to leave," Bao told the men.

Neya glared at him, but there was no time to argue. He wished he could talk to her before departing, but it would have to wait. He didn't look at her before turning and making his way to the Amyrlin, M'Hael and Nessosin trailing after him, Abrazo keeping close as he had been ordered. Hopefully, he would see her again.


	66. Bring back what once was mine

It was Lilen, he was quite certain of that. No one could be as sly and vicious as she was. Kamarile would have made herself known from the start. She liked people to know she was the brain behind the operation.

Moghedien had somehow managed to gather both the Asha'man – the rogue ones, anyway – and some of the other remaining Dreadlords – women of the Black Ajah, probably. There must have been four or five hundreds of them; it was difficult to tell, what with all the smoke and body parts flying around. They were outnumbered. If not for the Amyrlin's _sa'angreal_ and the three former Chosen'spresence, they would have been crushed early on.

They had agreed that forming a full circle, as Demandred had done when he joined the battlefield with his Sharans, would only hinder them. There were too many positions to defend; they had to spread out. Al'Vere kept her artefact to herself and was laying waste on the enemy on her own, while each man had been attributed two Aes Sedai to link with and was doing likewise in other parts of the camp. Jasin was fighting a group of Shadow-Turned Asha'man with his two appointed Aes Sedai, women whose names he didn't even know. There were more circles, of course. The other Aes Sedai had been ordered to link by twos or threes, depending on their strength.

Demandred's camp was plunged into chaos when they arrived. The generals had been informed that they were about to join the opposite army, but no one had warned them to expect an attack before Demandred came back to tell them what to do.

They had to locate Moghedien amongst the multitude of Dreadlords. Once Lilen was dealt with, the rest of her army would likely disperse. It was easier said than done, however. The sneaky minx had always been skilled at disguising herself and posing as someone else. Jasin was sure she must have spent hours studying the rest of the Chosen to assimilate their mannerisms and speech characteristics in the event that she needed to impersonate them.

It seemed they had been fighting for days, although he knew form the position of the sun it couldn't have been more than an hour or two. He was exhausted, even with his recently recovered strength. He could see Taim engaged in battle not far from here; the man was barely keeping on his feet. They would have to retreat soon, before anyone burned themselves out. Demandred's Sharan non-channelers had been relocated – there was nothing they could do here – and, although the enemy's lines were thinning, Moghedien still hadn't revealed herself. The female channelers from Demandred's army had tried to join the fight, but they had been ordered to find Cauthon and Logain for further instructions, just as they had discussed earlier. It would have been too risky to commit all their channelers to the present fight. Graendal, or even Moridin, could show up at any moment and attack somewhere else. In any case, there was still the endless mass of Trollocs and Myrdraal to take into account.

Suddenly, Taim went down on his knees. Jasin didn't see what hit him, but instead of getting back on his feet, the Saldaean slid slowly to the ground. Cursing, Jasin made his way toward the other man, heedless of his Aes Sedai's warning cries. He couldn't leave the circle on his own, since he didn't have the lead – the Amyrlin wouldn't relent on that point, no matter how they argued – but he could still bloody well go wherever he wanted. Reluctantly, they followed him.

Taim was unconscious when he crouched down beside him. His breathing was shallow and difficult; he was white as a sheet. He seemed to have lost a lot of blood already, from a wound to his chest. Jasin had never gotten the hang of Delving or Healing, so he turned to his Aes Sedai. Without his realising it, they had removed him from the circle and linked with the two women who had been fighting alongside Taim. They were keeping offensive weaves away from them. "Get him out of here," one of Taim's pair told him sharply. "We'll hold this position."

Taim had to be taken to Neya straight away. If the man died… Darkness within! He had forgotten about their blasted bond. There was no telling what Neya would do if Taim died, but he wasn't eager to find out. Without another glance at the Aes Sedai, he conjured a gateway to the command tent.

* * *

She was exhausted.

Nothing could have prepared her for this, not even the battle at Dumai's Wells. There were so many wounded, and so few Healers. It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since the others had left, but already several Aes Sedai – Yellows – had had to retire to rest. Androl had been put in charge of coordinating the gateways to and from the different places where fighting was underway, but the amount of people who were brought in after the surprise attack on the Sharan camp – my _camp_ , she thought miserably – was enough to overwhelm all the available Healers before the fighting even began in earnest.

She should rest, she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to leave her people unattended. They understood that she couldn't Heal them all, of course, but she still felt incredibly guilty that she had to prioritise. It felt too much like deciding who deserved to live and who could be left to die.

Suddenly, she suffered a sharp pain in her chest, so intense that she had to sit down, feeling faint. For a moment she thought she had been stabbed, but quickly realised that Mazrim's mind had gone numb through the bond – number than before, in any case. He was unconscious, and seriously injured. She had to get to him. She jumped back on her feet, intent on demanding that Androl took her to the battlefield.

Jasin appeared as she was approaching the gateway platform, physically holding Mazrim. By the looks of him, he must have exhausted the last of his strength just to open the gateway. She ran toward them and crouched next to Mazrim.

"I'm sorry," Jasin muttered darkly. "I didn't know enough Healing to help. Might have killed him instead." He sat down abruptly, looking drained. "You should ask someone else to Heal him. You look too tired to channel a candle alight."

She wanted to thank him for bringing Mazrim back so quickly, but she couldn't afford the distraction. Mazrim's wound was worse than she had imagined. She put a hand on Mazrim's forehead to Delve him, but their bond snapped at that very moment.

It felt as if a part of her soul had been ripped away from her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. The world faded out of focus. Jasin stumbled toward her, asking what was wrong, but she heard him as if from a great distance. She wanted to shout and cry, to find the person who had done this and tear every limb from their body. She wanted to bury herself in a deep hole in the ground and sleep forever. She wanted to join Rand at Shayol Ghul and demand that the Dark One bring him back to her.

In the end, she did none of that.


	67. Strange things did happen here

"What in the Pit of Doom were you thinking, Traveling back with him here?" Demandred roared at him. Logain and Mandragoran were having a hard time holding him back. "Of course she was going to Heal him! Of course she was bloody well going to overreach and do whatever she thought was necessary to bring him back! Don't you know her at all?" He had seen Demandred in a rage before, but this was something else entirely. The man wasn't just furious, he was afraid.

The people of this Age were full of surprises. Not only had al'Meara managed to Heal a person cut off from the Source, something that had been thought impossible in his days but, separately from Neya, she had discovered a way to Heal the madness caused by the taint in a male channeler's mind. Egwene al'Vere had created a weave to counteract the effect of balefire. And now…

Now Neya had brought someone back from the dead. There was no other way to put it. Taim must have been dead, judging by the look on Neya's face just a moment after Jasin appeared. She must have felt the bond that linked them shatter. But she had Healed him anyway. Maybe 'resuscitated' was a better choice of word, in this instance.

Against all odds, it appeared that Neya had not burned herself out. Well, given everything that had happened, it was a mere detail. They were both still unconscious. Several Yellows had Delved them, but they were uncertain. They couldn't say when they would wake, or even if they would live. Hence Demandred's present frenzied raving. "You should have left him there, burn you!" the man went on. Jasin didn't think he'd ever heard him curse before, and now he couldn't seem to stop. Neya had influenced him in more ways than he'd assumed.

"You think you're the only one who's worried about her?" Jasin retorted angrily. "And what if Taim had died out there? What then?" he asked. "Do you truly believe she would have sat on her arse and waited for you to come back and comfort her? Do _you_ know her at all?" he said with a disdainful grimace. Then he did a double take. "You did know they were bonded, didn't you?" he asked with a faint scowl. It hadn't occurred to him until now. Demandred didn't reply, but his face took on a stony look. Ah. He _hadn't_ known. That explained a lot.

"I once saw her cry because she couldn't revive a flaming _bird_ , Demandred," he went on more softly. "She cares too bloody much, alright? That's her one flaw, her only weakness. But there's nothing anyone can do about that. I _had_ to bring him back to her, don't you see? She loves him, Barid, no matter what fancies you may hold on to," he said quietly. He probably shouldn't use the man's first name, but at this point, did it really matter?

Demandred was silent for a long time. Logain slowly let go of the man's arm, but Mandragoran's grip seemed to tighten. Then the one-time Chosen roughly shook himself free and stalked away.

The Last Battle was over. Al'Thor had won after all. Not only that but, against all expectations, he had survived.

The butcher's bill was costly. After Taim, then Demandred, had come to rally their side, Jasin had expected an easy victory, at least on their front. Instead, Moghedien and her Dreadlords had destroyed a good part of the unsuspecting Sharan army, and the Seanchan had been hit simultaneously, as he learned afterward. The news had been slower to reach the command tent, however. By the time Cauthon heard of this attack, the Seanchan army – his army, really – had been severely damaged. In the end, it was all they could do to hold on all fronts. They had underestimated Graendal and Moghedien.

When she saw that she had the advantage, Lilen had finally revealed herself, leading a circle of forty-four Dreadlords, presumably to make an end to their weakened lead channelers. The Amyrlin Seat, the only one among them who still had an ounce of energy to spare, thanks to her _sa'angreal_ , had fought the woman alone. It had been a short battle. Upon realising that her resources were too depleted and instead of retreating, al'Vere had drawn on her _sa'angreal_ until she literally burst with the power that filled her. The blast had destroyed not only Moghedien, but every single remaining Dreadlord besides. She had turned the battle around with her sacrifice, and saved countless lives. She had also somehow undone all the damage caused by balefire with the Flame of Tar Valon.

Kamarile had been dealt with as well, although she still lived. It seemed that Hessalam's Compulsion had backfired and hit her instead of her designated target, Aviendha, al'Thor's Aiel woman. He wasn't sure where she was being held.

Moridin had been brought back with al'Thor. Both men lay unconscious in a nearby tent; al'Meara had been trying to Heal the Dragon Reborn since they came back, but to no avail. His body was spent, she said. She doubted he would recover. It was likely a matter of time before he passed. To be fair, it was incredible enough that he'd survived at all. Moridin's condition was as uncertain as al'Thor's, although no one seemed to care much about him. He had burned himself out using the True Power, according to Moiraine Sedai. Their account of what had transpired inside Shayol Ghul was foggy at best. It seemed that the Aes Sedai who had been bonded to al'Thor, Alanna Mosvani, had also met her death at the hand of the _Nae'blis_.

Their losses were innumerable. Queen Tenobia, Bashere and his wife, Gareth Bryne and Siuan Sanche, Gawyn Trakand… Those were only the ones whose names were known to all. How many anonymous soldiers, farmers, merchants of all trades, how many women and children had died for this world? Was their sacrifice any lesser than that of Egwene al'Vere, who seemed to be already on her way to become a figure of legend, as revered as al'Thor himself? Someone would have to write songs about them. Who better than the only surviving musician of the Age of Legends to see it done properly?

* * *

"Who do you think you are, to bar my way?" the tall man asked scornfully. "I must see her, old man. Let me through, or I will _cut_ my way through," he said dangerously, fingering his sword hilt.

"You ain't going anywhere, lad," Abell told him stubbornly. "I don't know who _you_ are, but this is my daughter's tent, and there ain't no man will enter without my saying so."

That seemed to bring the other man up short. "Your daughter?" he repeated softly.

Abell nodded firmly. "Aye. Now get out of here. She needs rest." After a brief moment of hesitation, the man finally walked away.

Sighing with relief, Abell stepped back inside the tent. If the man had really wanted to enter, there wasn't much Abell could have done to stop him. Who were all these men, anyway? This was the third one who'd demanded to see Neya!

She lay as still as she had a moment before. She looked frighteningly pale. The Aes Sedai who came to check on her – Delve her, they called it – had been depressingly vague. They had no idea when she would wake, or even _if_ she would wake. No. He couldn't think about that. He _wouldn't_ think about that.

It had been more than two years since he'd last seen her. She had been little more than a girl, barely old enough to braid her hair, when she'd disappeared. She was a woman grown now, but she was still his little girl. He was lucky, he had to admit. When so many had lost loved ones, he found himself with his family whole and unharmed, including the daughter he had long ago presumed dead.

He still didn't understand why she'd left Emond's Field. Mat said it was complicated, but they hadn't talked much. There had been more pressing matters; apparently, Mat was some kind of general now. A _Seanchan_ general, of all things. Blood and ashes! Who in their right mind would put his son in charge of anything, or anyone? There was also a faint rumour that he was married. That was truly laughable. Why not Mat becoming a father, while they were at it? He chortled at the thought.

"Abell?" someone called from outside the tent. It sounded like Nynaeve.

"Come in," he said.

It was the Wisdom, just as he had thought. She looked different. More… poised. More in control. A tall, solid man followed on her heels. That was Lan Mandragoran, the man who had called himself Andra when Abell first met him. It seemed they were married. Poor lad. "Abell, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't even know she was here until a moment ago," Nynaeve said wistfully, sounding very much her old self. She made her way toward the cot and placed a hand on Neya's forehead. Abell assumed she was doing some Aes Sedai magic; he couldn't see or feel anything.

"She's been like that since I arrived an hour ago," Abell explained. "The Aes Sedai said she needed rest, lots of it, but they couldn't tell me when she'd wake up." Nynaeve was frowning; eventually, she grimaced. "Something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"She will be fine, I think. Although considering what she did, it's a wonder she's even alive." She looked impressed, but there was a trace of… distaste… in her expression. "She really needs rest, Abell. There's not much I can do for her, I'm afraid."

"That's alright, Wisdom. Thanks for coming anyway. I know you must be busy with Rand."

She sniffed. "Abell, I'm an Aes Sedai," she scolded him.

Oh. Mat had told him, he remembered faintly – or had it been Lord Perrin? – but he had forgotten about that. "Aye, that's right. Slipped my mind. Sorry… ah… Nynaeve Sedai."

"Well, there's no need to be so formal, but don't call me Wisdom. Are _you_ hurt?" she asked him.

"I'm not. How is Rand, if I may ask?"

Nynaeve sighed deeply. Suddenly, she looked exhausted. "I don't think he will last the night," she murmured. "Light knows, there's nothing wrong with him. He's just… spent." She paused. "And of course, that wretched Forsaken is pulling through," she went on darkly. "It's not fair!" Mandragoran took a few steps toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. She took a calming breath. "I'm sorry. I should go back to him," she said as she stood.

Abell imitated her. "Thanks for coming," he said again.

"Let me know if – when – she wakes up, will you?" He nodded in assent and they both departed.

Abell sat back on his chair. _She_ will _wake up_ , he thought stubbornly.

* * *

He could feel a headache coming. Had he gotten drunk the night before? That didn't sound like something he would do. Everything was fuzzy. He opened his eyes slowly. Where in the Pit of–

Then he remembered. The battle, the sudden pain, the freezing cold. _Neya_. He sat up abruptly, looking around in a frenzy. The tent was plunged in darkness, but he could see there was someone on the chair next to his pallet. It wasn't Neya, it was–

He started again. He couldn't feel her anymore. The bond was gone! He stood up, or tried to. He ended up stumbling and half-falling in the chair. "Watch out!" the man who had been sitting there cried out. "What are you doing, man?"

A light appeared and Mazrim shielded his eyes against the sudden glare. "Natael?" he asked in a puzzled voice. Yes, it was the former Forsaken. Hastily Mazrim heaved himself off the other man. He cleared his throat roughly. "What are you doing here? What's going on? Where's Neya?" Hopefully the other man would answer that last question first.

"Whoa, calm down. One thing at a time," he said. Mazrim opened his mouth to repeat the last question but Natael forestalled him. "She's fine. Well, she's still unconscious, but she'll be fine."

"Why's the bond gone? It can't be gone. I placed it myself. She can't have removed it herself. Why would she do that?" he asked frantically.

"Darkness within! Calm _down_ , will you? And sit, you look ready to fall again." Mazrim complied irritably. "She's alright, I told you," Natael went on. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. "The bond… it just… well, you see…"

"No, I don't. Maybe I would, if you actually explained instead of blurting out random words," he said sarcastically.

Natael glared at him. "You died," he said sharply.

He _died_? That didn't make sense. He was alive, wasn't he?

"Of course you are, you pillock," Natael said with a sneer. Mazrim flinched. He hadn't realised he'd spoken out loud. "You died, but Neya Healed you," he went on more softly.

Mazrim was speechless for a minute. "She… brought me back from the dead?" he asked uncertainly.

Natael shrugged. "Looks like it."

"Can I see her?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

The other man shook his head ruefully. "Not now, I'm afraid. Her father's there, and he's not letting anyone in. In any case, as I said, she's unconscious."

The man could say that as many times as he wanted, but Mazrim wouldn't believe it until he saw her. He had gotten too used to the bond, to the permanent awareness that she was alive and safe, to trust the man's word on it. "I need to see her," he said determinedly.

Natael sighed. "Well, you're welcome to try, but–" Mazrim was already walking out before the man finished his sentence. He had no idea where she was, but he would search the entire flaming camp if he had to. Abruptly, he realised that Natael had followed him outside. "Stubborn man," he heard the older man mutter.

"What happened, anyway? Is the battle over?" Mazrim asked, although he wasn't particularly interested in the answer.

"Obviously. Al'Thor is dying, the rest of the world is alive. Well, some of us are, anyway. It's this way," he added when Mazrim took a wrong turn. They reached their destination a few minutes later. "She's in there," Natael said, "but he won't let you in, I'm telling you. Don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered when Mazrim lifted the tent flap.

Neya was there, just as promised. She looked so frail, lying on the makeshift cot, so pale. The man who was sitting on the chair next to her stood up to face him. "What in the Pit of Doom do you think you're doing, coming in unannounced? Who are you?" The man reminded him of someone, but he wasn't sure who.

"Can I have a moment with her?" Mazrim asked. He never took his eyes off Neya.

"No, you bloody well cannot. Get out, lad. She needs rest," the man said firmly. "Maybe when she's awake, but certainly not now."

"Just a minute? Please?" he asked again. "She saved my life." Light, she really had. He couldn't believe she had actually raised him from the dead. For that matter, he couldn't believe he had died in the first place.

"Listen, lad," the older man said more gently, "she saved many lives today. Now she needs to rest because of that. You can see her tomorrow, alright?"

He wouldn't budge, would he? Well, there was no use antagonising her father. She wouldn't like th–

He blinked in sudden realisation. Hadn't she told him that her father was dead, that he had killed himself and the rest of her family after the madness took him? "You're not her father," he whispered. "Who are you?"

"What? Of course I'm her father, you bloody son of a goat! Are you calling me a liar?" the man asked indignantly.

"She told me her father was dead. That her whole family was dead," Mazrim explained.

"Oh," the other man said, clearly taken aback. "Well, that is, we adopted her, see? After that sad business with her Da and all."

That made sense. And… yes, he saw it now. The man looked like an older version of Mat Cauthon, didn't he? Neya said she came from the same village as the Dragon Reborn, the village they had all come from. "You will let me see her when she's awake, yes?" he asked again. Cauthon nodded. Without another word, Mazrim left the tent. Natael was waiting for him outside. Peace! Why was the bloody man following him around?


	68. Vir lath sa'vunin

For a moment, as sleep gradually receded, she was certain that she must have dreamed it all. She had never really left the Two Rivers, never met Ishamael or any other Forsaken. The Dragon would be Reborn some day, and the Last Battle would come, but it surely wouldn't happen in her lifetime. It had all been a long, strange dream.

Then she heard her father speak in a low voice. "…sorry, Tam. I really am. You know I'm here if you need me." There came a hushed reply that she didn't catch and then there was a rustle as someone lifted the tent flap. She heard her father settle somewhere close to her. She knew it was him without opening her eyes. He still wore the same sharp-scented fragrance he always used, the one that made her nose prickle because it was so strong. It was a wonder she could still discern it under the smells of blood and dirt and smoke that emanated from him. Had he taken part in the fight? She hadn't even considered the possibility. In her mind, her father had been safe at home, looking after her sisters and mother.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. He looked older than he had before she left, of course. His hair and beard were greyer and he had more wrinkles around his eyes. She supposed she looked different to him as well, after so long. He didn't notice that she was awake; his eyes were closed. He looked tired. She wondered how long she had slept, how long he had kept watch beside her bed. "Daddy?" she said softly. Her voice cracked a little. She hadn't called him that in years.

He started. "Burn me, you're awake!" He slid off the chair to kneel beside the cot and placed a hand on her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.

"Thirsty," she whispered.

"Oh, right." He jumped back on his feet to fetch some water for her and came back an instant later. "Here you go," he said as he handed the goblet over.

She drank thirstily, almost spilling the water in her haste. "Thanks." She looked up at him. "Is Mazrim alright?" she asked worriedly. She couldn't remember what happened after she'd decided to attempt Healing him. She must have passed out soon afterward.

"Who's that, sweetheart?" Abell said with a frown. "You've had several… visitors, but you needed to rest, so I told them to… ah… come back later," he finished lamely.

 _So he told them to piss off,_ she thought wryly. "Can you ask around? I really need to know that they're alright."

"They? You said Mazrim," he asked, his face suddenly blank.

She sighed. Some things never change. "Mazrim is the man I Healed before I lost consciousness. Mazrim Taim? From the Black Tower? But you mentioned other visitors."

"Aye. One hulking, haughty fellow and a skinny one in a fancy coat with a harp on his back. Logain Ablar came next. At least he introduced himself, that one," he added with a faint grimace. "The last one was here just an hour ago. Saldaean, by the look of him."

"Thank the Light," she muttered fervently. She knew only one Saldaean. "Do you think you could find him?" she asked in a small voice. "Or any of them, really. Well, except Logain. I don't need to see him." Why did the man want to see her? She barely knew him.

"Neya," Abell said, "you need to rest, sweetheart. I think it's best if we wait before allowing people in here." She gave him a flat look. "Well, maybe I should try to find Nynaeve," he went on hastily. "I'll be right back. Holler if you need me. I won't be far." He exited the tent without another word. Light, she had forgotten how stubborn he could be. It was no wonder Mat was so mulish sometimes. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Before Abell had been gone a minute, she slapped her forehead, cursing herself. She hadn't even asked about the bloody battle! Or Rand, or Mat, or… Burn her for a woolheaded fool! She was trying to get out of bed to find out when Logain stepped inside the tent.

He caught her she as she stumbled on her feet and helped her sit down on the chair. "Easy, there."

"Thank you. Maybe I'll wait another minute before running out," she said weakly.

"Yeah, well, I was actually coming to fetch you," he told her.

She frowned up at him. "How did you even know I was awake? It happened literally a minute ago."

He shrugged. "Saw your… Is he your father?" Neya nodded firmly. "Well, I saw him hurry out and assumed you were awake." He hesitated. "Well, either that or you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint. Is Mazrim alright?" she asked for the second time in as many minutes. At least Logain knew who she was talking about.

"He lives," Logain replied curtly.

Thank the Light for that. "And… Demandred?"

"He's the reason I'm here. He's making trouble – already," he said bitterly. "He refuses to sign the Dragon's Peace."

"I'm not sure how much help I would be, you know. We're not exactly on good terms…"

Logain sighed. "Yeah, I figured. But who else is there? You're the only one who knows him. Except Asmodean – Natael, whatever he calls himself – but they don't seem to get along." So Jay was alright as well. That was a relief.

"Is Bao here alone? Where are Shendla and Mintel? You know, the woman who was there when he… surrendered. And an old man?"

Logain was shaking his head. "Haven't seen anyone else from the Sharan camp. Can you please come? He's in there with Cadsuane Sedai and several Wise Ones, and I'm not sure which is the most dangerous."

Cadsuane? She'd never heard the name before. To be fair, she didn't know many Aes Sedai. "Alright," she said with a sigh. "Help me up, will you?"

He grabbed her arm and steadied her as she stood. "I can carry you, if you want," he told her with a bright smile.

She snorted. "I think I'll manage, thank you."

They made their way to the command tent. All around them, people were celebrating, dancing, singing, drinking. She assumed the casualties had been transported to a quieter place. She stepped inside the tent as Logain held the flap open for her. Abell was inside, and many other people as well. Most were women, and some of them Aiel – Aes Sedai and Wise Ones, Neya assumed.

"You should be in bed. You need rest," her father said, glaring at Logain. He indicated Nynaeve – at least, she thought it was Nynaeve. The Wisdom had changed much since she'd last seen her, over two years ago. "Nynaeve will be checking in on you in a moment." He walked toward her. "Come, let's get you back to your tent."

Nynaeve was already beside Neya, a hand on her forehead. She felt the older woman embrace _saidar_ and Delve her. "You do need to rest, Neya. I don't know how you did it, but you've exhausted yourself almost to the point of no return. You're lucky you didn't burn yourself out," the Wisdom said briskly. She hadn't changed that much after all.

"I just need a minute," Neya murmured. She had just spotted Bao. He sat on the other side of the tent, brooding. He didn't appear to notice her, or maybe he was still ignoring her. She walked up to him slowly, careful not to stumble. He raised his head as she came closer and stood up, as he always did. His face looked as impassive as usual, although his eyes took her in from top to bottom. She stopped a few feet away from him. "You agreed to sign, Bao," she told him without preamble. "What's holding you back?"

The tent had gone silent all of a sudden. Everyone seemed intent on their conversation. "I cannot sign it alone," he said quietly.

She scowled at him. "Why not?"

"Every decision must be made consensually," he explained. "That is the law."

She stared at him blankly for a second. "But… I'm not…" she stammered in a puzzled voice. "I mean, I thought… Aren't you going to…" She trailed off. Bao didn't say anything; he simply waited for her to find her words. "I had assumed you were going to annul the marriage on grounds of treason and cast me out," she finally managed to say, although she used the Sharan dialect they both understood. To be fair, she hadn't expected so many people to be around when they had this particular conversation. "It's legal for you to do that. I checked," she told him as casually as she could.

"Is that what you want?" he asked her solemnly, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"Is that relevant?" she countered. "You don't need my consent to annul it, not on these grounds," she whispered.

He took a step toward her but, before he could do anything else, Abell moved forward to place himself between the two of them. "Step back, man," he growled.

Before Bao could respond, Neya placed a hand on her father's arm in a soothing gesture. "Da, it's alright." She cleared her throat. "I don't think you've been properly introduced. Bao, this is my father, Abell Cauthon. Da, this is Bao, the King of Shara." She paused for effect. "My husband."

There was a chorus of incredulous gasps and not a few curses from the other people present. Abell stood stock still, obviously shocked. "Husband?" he repeated slowly, as if he'd never heard the word before.

"Yes. I'm sorry," she went on. "I wish you could have been there for the wedding. All of you. I didn't think…" She trailed off once more. By that time, she had lost all hope to ever be reunited with her family.

"You _married_ one of the Forsaken?" That was Nynaeve. "What were you _thinking_?" Suddenly, she put a hand over her mouth. "Light! Is he the…?" she sputtered, looking at Neya, then at Bao, then at Neya again, fastening her eyes on her belly.

Neya burst out laughing. She couldn't help it; she had a terrible tendency to laugh in dramatic situations. This was _not_ how she had expected the aftermath of the Last Battle to proceed. Bao took another step toward her. Abell didn't say anything this time; he looked dazed. Nynaeve looked ready to burst at the offense. When her laughter abated, Neya realised everyone was staring at her worriedly. _Oh well_ , she thought wryly, _the battle is obviously over, and it appears we won. I can afford to go mad now._

"You did not answer my question," Bao prompted her softly.

She grinned at him. "Of course I don't want you to annul the marriage, woolhead," she told him fondly.

Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. In front of everyone! Light, in front of her _father_! It was not a light brush of the lips, either. She was breathless by the time he released her. She let out a small, involuntary giggle, then cleared her throat roughly, avoiding her husband's intent gaze. "Ahem. You wanted me to have a glance at that?" she asked as collectedly as she could, pointing at the document that lay on the table beside them and doing her best to ignore everyone else in the tent. When he nodded, she sat down on one of the chairs. Her knees felt weak. Nobody had been talking for a long moment now, but as she perused the treaty, they all broke into a cacophony of exclamations and clamours. She let it all wash over her as Bao took place in front of her, placing his hand lightly on hers. She gave him a small smile before turning her attention back to the paper.


	69. Stick them with the pointy end

Mazrim peeked inside Neya's tent. "I told you, she's not there!" he told Natael. "Peace! I knew we shouldn't have left, even for a moment. Burn you, she could be anywhere now!"

"Calm down, man. We'll find her. She can't have gone very far in her condition," he replied matter-of-factly.

Mazrim glared at him but didn't answer. Natael had insisted that they locate something to eat; Mazrim's stomach had been rumbling for over an hour and it apparently annoyed the older man. _Besides_ , Natael added, almost as an afterthought, _you've just been Healed from death itself. You need to get your strength back_.

They had wandered around the camp for a while and found several fires with ready pots of stew or broth, but someone always seemed to recognise him. Well, he was a tall Saldaean man in a well-cut black coat with dragons on his cuffs; there weren't two like him. Nobody would share their food with him, of course.

In the end, they had Traveled to the Sharan camp. After all, Mazrim was supposed to be relocated there shortly; he might as well get acquainted. They hadn't anticipated the fact that the foreigners could neither speak nor understand the Common Tongue, however, nor even the Old Tongue, for that matter. Thankfully, it didn't appear to bother the Sharans. They clearly hadn't understood a word Mazrim said, but they'd kindly invited them both to share their meal regardless.

The whole endeavour must have taken them an hour at most, but by the time they returned, Mazrim had noticed that the tent flap was partially open. And now Neya was gone.

"We should go to the command tent," Natael said. "Even if she's not there, they'll probably know where she is."

That made sense, he admitted begrudgingly, if only to himself. They made their way there, walking quickly, trying not to draw attention to themselves – something made almost impossible thanks to Natael's improbably radiant clothes. As they walked among the tents, something crashed into him.

Ilawen? What in the Pit of Doom was _she_ doing here? The little girl looked up at him, raising her arms in a clear demand that he carry her. After a brief hesitation, he complied. She threw her arms around him, burying her head against his neck. Natael was staring at him in puzzlement.

Karys approached them timidly a moment later. "Mazrim? Have you seen Neya? We can't find her," the girl said dismally.

"We're looking for her. Care to join us?" he asked her. She nodded enthusiastically and he felt Ilawen do the same. She almost broke his jaw. They started up again, with Natael trailing after them uncertainly.

"Are you alright?" Mazrim asked the girls.

"Huh-uh," they both replied with exaggerated casualness.

"How did you get here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Logain took us with him," Karys explained. Before he had time to wonder about that, she went on. "He said you were a Darkfriend."

"I was," he told her softly.

"Why?" Ilawen wanted to know.

"Because…" He trailed off, searching for an answer to give her. "Because I was stupid," he said eventually.

"Aw, that's alright," the younger girl told him matter-of-factly. "Boys are always stupid."

He heard Natael snigger behind them. "Boys may be stupid, but girls are evil," the older man said.

"Peace, man. They're just kids," Mazrim told him sharply.

"Oh, is that why they're so short?" Natael said.

"You're silly," Ilawen said, giggling.

"I am rubber, and you are glue. Whatever you say bounces off me, and sticks to you." _Where did_ that _come from?_ Mazrim thought incredulously. Both girls were laughing now.

He told them to wait outside while he checked inside the tent. Ilawen protested grumpily, clutching his neck, but when he offered to hand her over to Natael, she squealed in delight, to the reformed Forsaken's horror. He held the little girl gingerly, as if she were a particularly dangerous specimen of poisonous snake.

The command tent was in chaos. The Aes Sedai and Wise Ones were apparently arguing, over what he didn't know. In fact, he barely noticed them. Neya was sitting at a table with Demandred, just the two of them. They were talking animatedly, obviously discussing the document that lay between them. At least, she was animated. Demandred was his usual stoic self. Mazrim felt a sharp spike of jealousy, felt it like a barbed arrow through his heart. Not content with taking her away from him in the dead of night, the blasted man had enthralled her somehow, and even had the gall to marry her. It wasn't fair! She belonged with Mazrim. She carried his child, for goodness' sake!

Neya looked up and a smile illuminated her face when she saw him. She got up, practically ran to him and hugged him fiercely. He returned the embrace as strongly as he dared. Light, but she smelled wonderful. How was it even possible, after the battle? He smelled like sweat and mud and worse. "You're alright," she murmured. "Thank the Light."

"I'm fairly certain that it's due more to you than to some divine intervention on the Light's part," he whispered back. Several people turned to glare at him, but he ignored them. Demandred hadn't moved from his chair; he wasn't even looking in their direction. "How are you feeling?" he asked her anxiously.

She disentangled herself from him and took a step back. He let her go reluctantly. "I'm fine. Where's Jay? Asmodean? Did you see him?"

"He's outside," he said dismissively. "He's fine. Don't fret." He brushed a stray strand of hair delicately away from her face. Light, she was beautiful.

"I Healed you," she told him softly.

He snorted. "Yes, obviously."

"I mean I cleansed you from the taint," she clarified. "I did it at the same time as I… well, you know."

He was speechless for a moment. Had she? He didn't feel any different. Well, he did, but he'd assumed that was an after-effect of being… resuscitated. Everything seemed oddly bright and colourful. He didn't feel as… numb… as he had before, either. Not that it was a particularly good thing, to be honest. It felt like every emotion he'd suppressed in the last few months was coming back with a vengeance. For one thing, he'd never quite realised how much he considered Neya as a part of himself, or how much he had missed her. Suddenly, it was all he could do not to strangle Demandred with his bare hands. It would likely result in Mazrim's impromptu death, but did it really matter? He couldn't live without her. The bloody man had taken away everything he had.

He wasn't giving up quite yet, however. He did have an ace up his sleeve. "Someone wants to see you," he said with a faint smile, indicating the tent opening.

* * *

Karys was restless. She was fairly certain Ilawen had fallen asleep in the man's arms; she could hear her little sister snoring softly. The man himself – Natael, she thought Mazrim had called him – was standing rigidly next to her. He looked petrified, although Karys couldn't see why. Ila wasn't even moving.

It had been a long day. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since they'd left the Black Tower with Logain. The new leader had been reluctant to allow them to come, but Karys had insisted. This was the Last Battle, and everyone's help would be needed. They could cook or help the wounded or even scavenge arrows on the battlefield, things the Asha'man would be too busy to attend to. There was no way she would be left behind. She had been training for this, practicing her sword forms daily with the short blade Neya had given her.

She hadn't understood what was happening at first. A commotion had started in Mazrim's palace, and Sora and the other women had gathered all the children and hidden in the barn. Then Logain had emerged from Mazrim's palace with some Dedicated and Soldiers, looking bedraggled. They said Mazrim and his Asha'man had been driven off, that they had all turned to the Shadow.

It had never occurred to her that Mazrim was a bad person. He didn't _look_ like a bad person, or act like one. For that matter, she hadn't thought the rest of the Asha'man were bad, except maybe Coteren and some others. Mazrim was always nice to Ilawen and her. He allowed them both to sneak into the palace whenever they wanted. Usually they came back with sweets. He had even given them pins to wear, both the sword one _and_ the dragon one. None of the other kids had them.

She had been very sad when Logain said Mazrim was a Darkfriend, mostly because she knew that Neya would be sad, too, because she and Mazrim were sweethearts. She didn't understand why Neya had to leave like that without even telling them. At first she felt devastated, and Ilawen had cried for hours. Neya had promised that she would look after them and she'd abandoned them. Karys had been angry for a while, too, until Atal told her that Neya probably didn't have a choice. Those were dark days, he said, and people had to make tough decisions. Atal was nice, too. She didn't understand why Logain was so mean to him, most of the time.

If not for Atal, she would be dead, and her sister too. He was the one who took them to Mayene earlier, after the attack. The monsters had appeared out of nowhere when they were tending to the wounded in the Black Tower camp. There hadn't been many channelers around at the time, because most of them were engaged in battle somewhere else – against the Shon-Chan, she thought, or maybe assisting them, it wasn't clear to her. The few who were there had been wounded and were tired and weak from fighting.

Karys should have been terrified when the big wolf creature had run toward her and Ilawen, but she knew what to do, and she was ready for it. This was what she'd been training for. When the wolf was almost on them, she had ducked, pushing Ilawen out of the way. The monster had lost its balance, heavy and ungainly as it was, and she had tripped it with her sword. It had landed on the ground with a crash, growling, but before it could get back on its paws, she had jumped on its back and buried her blade in its neck. It had made an odd gurgling sound as blood spurted out of the wound, but it didn't last very long. When she was sure it was dead, she had gathered her sister and run as fast as she could, hoping to put some distance between them and the rest of the creatures.

She'd almost run into another of the beasts. There were fires everywhere, and the thickening smoke made it hard to see. This one's head looked like a distorted hawk, with a beak where its mouth should have been. It was hacking at Sora and Gadren, backing them into a large tent which had caught fire. Sora was already injured and bleeding badly, because she was obviously trying to shield Gadren with her body. Without a moment's hesitation, Karys had cut the monster's hamstring with a smooth gesture of her blade. That was one of the spots Neya said she should aim for when facing an enemy bigger than herself. The hawk let out an ululating cry as it fell on its knees and then it had been a simple matter of seeking the neck once more. This one had made no sound as it died.

As she made her way to her friend and his mother, however, the tent had collapsed, the flames trapping them all inside. Ilawen was knocked out cold by a falling piece of wood and the fire crept closer rapidly. Karys had tried to lift the beam, but to no avail. She wasn't strong enough. The smoke was making her eyes water, and the heat left her dizzy. She was going to pass out, and they would die. They would be burned alive.

And then Atal appeared, dispelling fire and smoke alike and lifting the beam with the Power. Trygg followed a moment later, looking determined. By then Karys could barely breathe, let alone move. She felt exhausted. Her arm hurt. She was vaguely aware that she was being carried, and that was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the First's palace in Mayene.

The First herself, Berelain, had been attending to them, for a while anyway. She was very beautiful, like a princess from the fairytales Granny used to read to them when they were little. She was really nice, too. Ilawen was asleep in another bed, and Gadren sat in a chair in their room, but Sora was nowhere to be found. Gadren said she was dead. He looked very disturbed when he told her, but he wasn't crying. Maybe boys never cried. Boys were strange.

She'd wandered along the long corridors for a time while she waited for her sister to wake up. That was when she'd heard the rumours.

People said Mazrim had come back to the Light, and another Forsaken as well, although she wasn't sure which one. No one seemed to know for certain, because the battle was very messy.

When she'd found Atal in a nearby room, he told her Neya was back as well. He had been badly injured when they made their way out of the camp. His left arm ended in a stump, and Trygg was inconss… uncounts… he was asleep. Atal said he'd been hit on the head and they didn't know if he would wake up. Atal looked sad and tired, so she hadn't bothered him too long.

When she walked back to her room, Ilawen was eating some broth and Gadren was gone. She explained what she'd heard and they decided to go back to the camp to find Neya. They had sneaked past the Yellow Aes Sedai and non-channeler helpers and run toward the first gateway they'd found. She knew it was dangerous, because gateways could cut you in half if they closed on you, but this was important business.

They had walked around the camp for a long time, asking after Neya, but no one knew her or where she was. Had Atal been wrong? And then they'd run into Mazrim. Of course, Ilawen had _literally_ run into him, as she sometimes did, but this time he hadn't appeared to mind, not like the first time she'd done it. In fact, he seemed glad to see them. He didn't know where Neya was, but apparently she really was here, somewhere, and they had set to find her together.

Someone held the tent flap open and Neya stepped out, shielding her eyes against the glare of the rising sun. She froze when she saw them, her mouth hanging open. Then she strode toward Karys, fell to her knees and hugged her fiercely. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry." Karys thought Neya was crying, and then she realised she was crying, too.


	70. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey

Bao glanced over his shoulder when Neya stepped outside, followed closely by M'Hael. He was not certain how he felt about the other man being alive, especially now that he knew about the bond he shared with his wife. Had shared, in any case. He had to admit that discovering Taim had been able to sense everything Neya was feeling made him uncomfortable. He didn't wish for the Saldaean's death, not exactly, but it would certainly have made things easier for everyone if he had died – and remained dead.

Not for the first time, he pondered all the facts that Neya had managed to keep hidden from him all this time. Being bonded to Taim was the most prominent among them, to be sure, but he hadn't known she was Cauthon's sister, either. Then again, most of his initial knowledge of her had come from Taim himself. His other spies at the Black Tower hadn't been able to tell him much more beyond the fact that they were lovers and that she knew the Dragon Reborn personally. M'Hael had likely wanted to hold back as much information as he could. It was obvious that he loved her, and she him. Tearing them apart would cause more harm than good, that was certain. And yet, hadn't she made it clear that she wanted to be with him, that she wanted to pick up where they had left off and go on as planned in Shara? He wasn't sure what to make of it.

And what in the Pit of Doom did Nessosin have to do with her? He had thought the Musician long dead, and good riddance. Moridin himself had assured him he wouldn't trouble them further. Had he lied, or had he been deceived, somehow? Their affair was known to all, but surely, after all this time… It didn't matter. If Neya wanted him to come to Shara, he would allow it. They would have much to sort out once they got there, to be sure, but they had all the time in the world. Although in all honesty, he couldn't begin to imagine a scenario that fitted everyone in.

Abell Cauthon was glaring at him from a little distance. How strange to think that this tired old man was his father-in-law. It had truly never occurred to him that Neya might have any living kin somewhere in the world. Hopefully, they would see sense and not shut her out completely for marrying him. That would certainly hurt her more than she could bear.

Neya's father abruptly made his way toward him. Bao decided to stand up; it seemed the polite thing to do, although the man was a good deal shorter than he was. "You married her," Cauthon said woodenly.

Bao bowed his head slightly in affirmation. "We did not have the luxury to wait," he told the older man. Well, Bao was in fact a few centuries his elder, but Cauthon _looked_ older. "I could have died during the battle."

"Oh yeah, that would have been a bloody shame," the man said wryly.

"I take it you are the one who taught her to speak so… colourfully," Bao said with a grimace. Why did they all feel the need to curse so often? It was one thing to hear it from an old man, but from Neya's youthful, delicate mouth, he found it utterly out of place, even though he had gotten used to it over the last few weeks, admittedly.

Cauthon snorted. "You think you're so high and mighty, do you? What in the Pit of Doom was she thinking, attaching herself to you like that?" he went on incredulously.

"I believe she was trying to save me, as well as her people," Bao answered quietly, "and the whole world in the process."

That clearly unsettled him. Bao took the opportunity of his stunned silence to withdraw. There was too much noise inside, and he wanted to be with Neya in any case. She had almost died. He remembered only too well how he'd felt when Nessosin broke the news to him, the feeling that his heart was being slowly crushed to powder. It was a sensation entirely new to him; he'd never experienced anything of the kind before in his long life. The thought of losing her…

The scene he walked in on was not the one he had expected. Neya was cradling two little girls in her arms. Taim and Nessosin were talking in low voices. M'Hael gave him a nasty look when he spotted him, and Bao returned him a flat stare. They would have to work something out quickly. They couldn't very well spend the rest of their centuries-long lives glaring stonily at each other.

The younger child disentangled herself from Neya's embrace to look up at him, causing the other two to turn around. "Who are you?" the girl demanded, hands on her hips. Neya chuckled, though she had obviously been crying.

Bao took a few more steps toward them and crouched in front of them. "I am Bao. What is your name?"

The girl frowned at him suspiciously. "Why do you speak funny?"

Neya really laughed at that. In what was his speech… funny? He would have to ask her. Maybe it was his accent. "Because he's very old," Neya explained. "Now introduce yourself properly, will you? It's what polite people are supposed to do."

The child sighed dramatically. "I'm Ilawen Kesunyian. Nice to meet you," she recited with a trace of annoyance. "Oh, and that's my sister Karys," she added more animatedly, pointing to the other girl, who smiled shyly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," Bao told them. Ilawen giggled.

"Hey, girls," Neya said, "I need to have a word with Bao. Just bother Mazrim and Jay for a moment," she told them brightly. "I'll be right back."

Before she could get on her feet, however, Ilawen clutched her arm tightly. "Promise? You won't leave again?" She seemed ready to cry.

Neya patted her reassuringly. "I promise. I'll be right there," she said, indicating a spot nearby, "so you can keep an eye on me. Alright?" Ilawen nodded dubiously.

Standing, she took Bao's arm and they walked to the appointed location. "I guess I forgot to mention I had two little girls to take care of," she said with a wry grin.

"It seems you 'forgot' to mention a great many things," he replied flatly.

Her grin widened. "And you never suspected! I'm getting good at this. Light, if I'd been a Forsaken, you could have called me The Deceiver. It has a bloody nice ring to it." Hopefully the children would not pick up the habit of using that sort of language.

"Why? What's wrong with Lightbringer?" a voice came from behind them. Bao whirled, hand on his sword. He knew that voice. What was _he_ still doing here?

Neya scowled at the newcomer, but her frown was quickly replaced by a look of awe. "Artur Hawkwing?" she whispered wonderingly. She must have seen portraits of the man before.

"Himself," the dead man replied with a beaming smile. He took her hand and gave it a lingering kiss. What did he think he was doing, touching his wife? And Neya actually giggled! Blood and -

Brilliant. Now he was doing it, too. _What has she done to me?_ Bao thought warily.

"It's an honour," the so-called Hero of the Horn went on, "to finally meet the young woman who saved the day." Neya scoffed, but colour was slowly suffusing in her cheeks. Surely she was not going to fall for that silver-tongued philanderer? The man was _dead_!

M'Hael and Nessosin joined them an instant later, trailed by the girls. "Hawkwing, you lecher," Nessosin said irritatingly. "Why are you still here? The battle is over. Go back where you came from, man."

For once, Bao was willing to take the Musician's side. "Nessosin has a point. Why did you not return with the rest of the… Heroes?" Puny heroes they were. Most of the fighting had been over when they'd finally deigned to make an appearance. Neya was looking at them with an odd expression; she seemed to be biting back laughter, for some reason.

Hawkwing let out that booming laugh of his, the one he had apparently been famous for. Judging by Neya's reaction, he still knew how to use it to his advantage. "You're right, of course. It seems your situation is complicated enough as it is, in any case. I wouldn't want to intrude," he said pleasantly. "I simply _had_ to see you before I departed, Your Highness. I was the one who named you, after all."

Neya was staring at him in confusion. "What do you mean, you named me?"

Hawkwing looked at her in surprise. "Did no one tell you? I was the one who gave you your title, Lightbringer. Of course, you were still unconscious at the time, but it certainly had the desired effect as far as rallying the troops went, especially the Sharans. It's quite fetching, don't you think? I'm rather proud of it."

"But the Foxes…" She cut off abruptly, biting her lip. Bao frowned at her and noticed that Nessosin was doing the same. Foxes? Could she be talking about the Eelfinn? The people of this Age truly had no idea what the _ter'angreal_ leading to _Sindhol_ had been designed for, did they? "I mean, I heard it before," she went on hastily. "Months ago."

Hawkwing appeared slightly taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "Time passes differently in the realm of the Finn," he said softly. "The past and present often merge, and it's not unusual to glimpse even the future." That was one way to put it, Bao supposed. In fact, _Sindhol_ lay outside of time; that was why it couldn't be accessed without the _ter'angreal_. He was not about to try and explain the concept, however. It would take too much time, and that was assuming that they even possessed the ability to comprehend the subtle theory.

There was a moment of silence. "That explains a lot," Nessosin murmured eventually. He cleared his throat. "Well, it appears you lingered for nothing after all," he told Hawkwing. "Now shoo," he added with an ushering gesture. The children giggled.

Neya smiled, but it quickly turned into a yawn she couldn't quite cover. "We all need to rest," Bao said firmly.

"Of course," Hawkwing said genially. He turned to Neya. "Lightbringer, it has been my pleasure. Mayhap we will meet again, when the Wheel turns."

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you for coming up with something that's neither ridiculously long nor extravagant. Simple is often best."

He beamed at her delightedly. "Indeed." He looked around at them all, bowing slightly. "I bid you all a good day," he said formally before vanishing.

Ilawen gasped loudly and Neya picked her up. "Bao is right. We should all get some sleep."

"You do that. I'm going to get something to eat. I'm starved," M'Hael told her. "How do you say 'May I have some of your food?' in Sharan?"

Neya frowned slightly. "I'm sure there's food around here. You don't need to go all the way to the Sharan camp."

"The people here don't want to share their food with me," he replied with a small grimace.

"Oh, I see. It's ' _kom'sher dar oppo neh'_ ," she told him. Bao chuckled softly, as much to his own surprise as to that of the others. _I wouldn't mind having you for a meal_ , that translated roughly.

Neya was staring at him in shock. "Of all the bloody times you could have laughed in the last few months, you choose to do it now!" she said with mild annoyance, although she appeared delighted at the same time.

Taim gave her a flat look. "I don't even want to know what that meant. How do you _really_ say it?"

"' _Zerath'in dar kuppa neh'_ " Bao said with a perfectly straight face.

M'Hael glared at them both, eyes narrowed suspiciously. When nobody laughed, the Saldaean nodded. "I'll see you later, then." He turned and walked away without another word.

"I'll go with you," Nessosin called out, trailing after him.

"I don't need an escort, you know. Why do you keep following me around?" Bao heard Taim mutter irritatingly.

"After everything you have done to keep him alive, it would be a shame for him to be killed by a prickly Sharan," Bao said idly.

Neya grinned at him. "To be fair, my phrasing was much milder than yours. Anyway, he'll be fine. He's got a bodyguard," she said wryly.

Bao snorted. "Indeed. All shall tremble at the sight of Nessosin and his bloodthirsty harp."

Neya burst out laughing, and the girls did likewise. It was strange to be the cause of someone's genuine laughter after so long. Maybe his case was not hopeless after all.


	71. It's called being fabulous

"I don't know about you, but I could use some sleep," Jasin said with a yawn. "I haven't slept properly since the battle ended, thanks to you." Most of the Sharans who had welcomed them by the fire were taking a nap. They had looked at them blankly for a few seconds when Mazrim spoke the words Demandred had given them, and then they had burst out laughing, some of them actually rolling on the ground. After they'd recovered, they had offered them bits of something that looked like rabbit, but didn't taste quite like it. Jasin suspected it might have been a rat, or worse. Who knew what these savages ate?

"And I could use a change of clothes," Mazrim muttered gloomily, picking at his blood-stained shirt.

"I've got some clean clothes in my tent," Jasin offered. "They'd probably fit you." Mazrim studied the garments Jasin was wearing and frowned dubiously. What was wrong with them? It was his best purple silk shirt! If he was going to die, he'd figured he might as well dress for it. He was particularly pleased with the suitable amount of white lace spilling from the cuffs of his emerald green coat. No patchy gleeman cloak for him anymore. From now on, he was going to dress properly. "Well, suit yourself," he went on with a shrug as he stood. He yawned again, hard enough that his jaw clicked ominously. He should have rested earlier, after having depleted most of his strength on the battlefield, but he had been worried about Neya. And about Mazrim, somewhat. One did not go without the other. Idly, he wondered if Neya would bond him again. He doubted Demandred would allow it.

Mazrim got up on his feet. "Fine. Let's see what you've got," he mumbled.

Smirking, Jasin opened a gateway inside his tent. He walked up to his trunk and opened it, pulling out a few shirts that would match Mazrim's colouring marvellously. The Saldaean stared at them all in dismay. Jasin sighed. These people wouldn't know good taste if it bit them on the nose. "Here, put this on," he instructed the younger man. It was a simple dark blue silk shirt with delicate gold embroidery and just a bit of lace.

Mazrim inhaled deeply before taking it. "Thanks," he grumbled. "Some breeches too, perhaps?" His own were caked with mud, and quite a bit of blood as well. "Preferably without lace?" he added with a grimace.

Lace, on breeches? Was the man still insane? Jasin shook his head in wonder. Maybe Neya had overlooked a patch of the taint's corruption in the Saldaean's brain. "Here," he said, pulling out a pair of plain dark breeches. It had just a tiny bit of embroidery on the legs.

Mazrim rolled his eyes but took the generously proffered clothes. "I'll go change and leave you to rest, then," he said, stepping toward the exit.

"You're welcome to change here," Jasin said with a grin.

Mazrim turned around to glare at him. "I knew it," he muttered. "Burn you! Why does everyone keep assuming I'm…" He trailed off, taking a deep breath. "First Mishraile, then Neya teasing me about bloody Logain, and now–" This time he trailed off because Jasin was kissing him.

As he'd expected, Mazrim pushed him away once his shock faded, his face thunderous. "What do you think you're doing? The Blight take you!" he hissed before storming out of the tent.

Jasin smiled smugly after him. He would see sense before long, undoubtedly. Jasin was willing to eat his harp if he didn't. Who could resist him? By joking about it, it seemed Neya had unknowingly come up with the perfect solution.

* * *

Mazrim stalked away angrily. Burn the bloody man! It was not the fact that he _was_ a man; that didn't bother him in any way. But that wasn't what he wanted – what he needed – right now. He wasn't giving up on Neya, not quite yet, married or not, Queen or not. Demandred had better watch out.

What did she even see in the man? He had no sense of humour, and he wasn't particularly pleasant. He'd probably frighten the kids away. And Mazrim couldn't imagine how he could be any good in… other activities. He seemed so bloody cold and unimaginative. It made him almost physically sick just to think about Demandred and Neya together. Honestly, what had she been thinking,to actually marry the man? It didn't matter. He would wait for her, if he had to. Burn him for a flaming woolheaded fool, but he would.

He couldn't join Neya and talk to her now, however. She was certainly resting. Mazrim should probably get some sleep as well, but he was on edge. He had to clear his mind.

He made his way to some part of the camp where he hadn't been before. People were celebrating, of course, dancing and singing and getting intoxicated. He wasn't in the mood for this – not to mention that they would probably send him on his way in any case – and was therefore ready to turn around, but then he spotted Logain. His successor was talking with Genhald and Pendaloan. On a whim, Mazrim decided to approach them.

Pendaloan stood up when he saw Mazrim approach. His face was so carefully blank it would have made even Demandred envious. For a moment, Mazrim thought he would embrace the Source, but he simply stalked away. Genhald went after him, after directing an accusing glare his way. Logain didn't move, obviously curious to know what had brought Mazrim here.

He sat down in front of the younger man, crossing his legs in a manner that was not unlike Demandred's meditative stance. They stood staring at each other for a long time in silence. "How many times did I try to break you?" Mazrim asked eventually.

Logain grimaced. "Thirteen times, ironically enough," he answered bitterly.

"You do realise I could have done it the first time, don't you?" Mazrim went on quietly. "I had more than enough Black sisters and Turned Aes Sedai at my disposal by the time you returned to the Tower. If I'd used female channelers…"

Logain scoffed. "And here I was, thinking you'd be attempting to make amends," he said wryly. "I should have known better. You just want to unburden yourself. You want me to absolve you."

Mazrim remained silent. Apologies were not his strongest point, he had to admit. It looked like he'd gone about it the wrong way. Better not to say anything. He would only make things worse. He started to rise when Logain spoke again.

"In any case," he went on, "I'm not the one you should apologise to. You should be saving all that for the dozens of men and women you managed to Turn to the Shadow, and who died because of it."

"A hundred and sixty-seven," Mazrim said softly. He was grateful to Neya for cleansing him of the taint's corruption, of course, but he couldn't help but regret the days when he was blissfully unaware of the guilt that now plagued him. It was gnawing at him, insidiously spreading in his mind, eating at his brain, not unlike the taint itself, in fact. In that moment, he was glad that the bond he had shared with Neya was gone. He wouldn't wish the feeling on his worst enemy. Not even Demandred, although he doubted the man was capable of feeling guilt.

"The taint…" Logain began uncertainly.

"…had nothing to do with it," Mazrim finished for him. "I was lucid the whole time. I remember everything clearly. The madness helped me deal with it, emotionally, but it didn't make the decisions for me." Suddenly, he found it hard to meet Logain's eyes. "I should have requested a fair trial," he whispered, picking at the ridiculous lace adorning Natael's shirt. "No pardon, no exile. I don't deserve any of that."

"Oh, enough with the self-flagellation," Logain muttered sharply. "You got your deal, man. Don't go throwing it in our faces now," he warned him. "You were given a second chance, Taim. Don't squander it." With that, he stood up and moved to join the other Asha'man.

Mazrim sat gazing fixedly at the grass for a long time, his mind blank. He heard someone approach behind him some time later, but he couldn't be bothered to move. "Care to dance?" the newcomer asked.

Of course, it had to be Natael. "I thought you were going to sleep?" Mazrim said irritatingly.

"I was getting ready to do just that, but then I thought, since you were upset, you were likely to get yourself in trouble, or even go look for it. I see I was right," he added with a smirk, planting himself in the spot Logain had deserted a moment ago. "Come dance. It'll help," he said once more, holding out a hand.

Mazrim scoffed. "You really think I'm going to dance with _you_?" Was the man insane? After all, he had been subject to the taint for a few months.

"Nobody else seems to be offering," Natael replied with a grin.

 _Then again, why not?_ Mazrim thought. _It can't hurt my reputation any more than it already is_. Besides, he wanted to see the look on Logain's face. "Fine," he muttered, grabbing the man's hand. "But I'll lead."


	72. All these things that I've done

Someone was pulling his sleeve. He opened his eyes, wondering who would dare wake him in this fashion. It was the youngest girl, Ilawen. "Bao? I have to pee," she whispered.

He saw that her sister and Neya were still asleep on the cot. "What do you need me for?" he asked hesitantly. Surely she was old enough to deal with these things on her own, was she not? He had very little experience with children.

"I don't know where to go," she explained.

Darkness within! Well, he would have to deal with this – and worse – sooner or later. He stood up smoothly. "Very well, I will go with you."

"Can you carry me?"

"Why? You are lucky enough to have two legs and the ability to use them."

"Fine," she grumbled with an exasperated sigh, "but at least give me your hand. I don't want to get lost." Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his hand firmly.

They walked for a moment. He didn't know where to find what she was looking for, but asking was out of the question. Everyone gave him a wide berth, and it seems a few people were intoxicated enough to give him nasty glares, but he paid them no heed. Eventually, he found a place with no people nearby and told the girl to just go behind one of the tent.

She looked up at him anxiously. "You wait for me?"

"Of course."

"You won't leave? Promise?" she asked again.

Why was she being so insistent? It was not like she was going away on an expedition. He crouched in front of her. "Why would I leave?"

"I don't know. Why does anyone leave?" she countered. "Neya said she would look after us and then she abandoned us. Then Mazrim left too. And Daddy, but he's dead, so that's different. At least that's what Karys said," she went on wistfully.

"Neya didn't leave of her own accord. I took her away," he explained. "She did not abandon you. She will not."

Ilawen scowled. "Why did you take her away?"

"I needed her," he said. It was the simple truth.

"What for?"

 _Burn my soul, do they always ask so many questions?_ "She was important for my plans," he told her patiently. He quickly realised his mistake.

"What plans?"

Was he supposed to lie to her, on account of her young age? He could not say. He never lied, unless he had no choice. He would have trouble coming up with a likely story on the spot, in any case. "The plans that would allow me to fight in the Last Battle and destroy the champion of the Light, the man you call the Dragon Reborn."

"Why do you want to destroy him? He's on our side."

She was clearly struggling to understand. He should probably tell her to go on with her business and go back to sleep. He doubted she would comply, however. "Because I was one of the Forsaken," he admitted. He was careful to use the appropriate term, the word she was most likely to understand.

"I don't know any Forsaken named Bao," she said dubiously.

"I was not always called by that name," he said. "I was known as Demandred."

Her eyes went wide and she took a stumbling step back. "Are you going to eat me?" she asked fearfully.

 _Eat_ her? "Why in the blazes would I do that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Granny said that Demandred would come and eat us if we didn't finish our vegetables," she whispered, "and that Lanfear would wear our skin for a dress if we played outside and got mud stains on our clothes."

By the blood falls! What kind of parent would tell _that_ to their children? "I'm afraid Granny's facts are incorrect," he said quietly. "I do not eat children. I never have."

"Oh," she said. "Maybe she was wrong. She mixed up things sometimes. Maybe it was another Forsaken."

"Yes, perhaps it was."

He started to tell her to go along, but she forestalled him. "So you didn't kill people?"

He hesitated. It was one thing to tell the truth, but she was clearly too young to hear this. He tried to dismiss it. "It was a long time ago," he said. "Don't you have something to do?"

"You're trying to change the subject," she scolded him. "Granny always did that, too. Karys says grown-ups always do that when they're embarrassed by a question. Or by an answer," she amended.

Perhaps he had underestimated her. "I killed people," he said softly. "Many people, women and children among them." Neya would likely have his hide for saying this, but what else was he supposed to do?

"Why? What did they do to you?" she wanted to know. She didn't seem particularly disturbed, but rather… curious.

The question took him aback. How strange that a five-year-old child could render him speechless. In truth, he had never paused to consider his actions, not these ones anyway. "It seemed… justified… at the time," he muttered eventually. He had no other answer to give her. He had done many things, many terrible things, after he turned to the Shadow. The one that stuck in his mind, however, the one that kept intruding on his dreams, was the obliteration of his native city, Adanza. The person who had given command of the armies of the Light to Lews Therin had lived there, with his whole family. He had destroyed them when the occasion presented itself, when Ishamael sent him there with a mission. But he didn't leave it at that. All these people, he had thought at the time, these brainless sheep, they all saw Lews Therin as their saviour, their champion. They revered him. What fools they were. He was not certain what had prompted him to annihilate the whole city, but Trollocs needed feeding, and that seemed justification enough. They would not survive the Dark One's reign, in any case. Only the strong would survive. Truly, he was doing them a favour. That was what he had told himself, at the time.

Ilawen was still scowling at him. "But you're good now, aren't you? You're not a Forsaken anymore," she said almost dismissively.

"I am not a Forsaken anymore," he confirmed. "But that does not make me _good_. It means I'm trying to be, I suppose." He _would_ try. They had given him – Neya had given him – a second chance, an opportunity to start over with a clean slate. He was going to do it justice, to the best of his ability.

"Alright then," she said with a shrug. "I'm going now. You stay here," she added threateningly.

"I will not move a jot," he told her, standing upright.

She was gone less than a minute, and she ran back to him in all haste, studying the grass under his feet suspiciously. She appeared satisfied that he had remained in the same spot.

"There you are!" someone called from behind them. It was Karys. "I've been looking everywhere for you! I told you to stay near me, Ila. What if Trollocs show up again?"

"There are no more Trollocs, not here," Bao said. "I am sorry if you were worried about her."

"I was safe anyway," Ilawen told her sister. "He's Demandred. No one is going to attack us if he's here," she went on matter-of-factly. "Not even Trollocs."

Karys was staring at her, clearly mortified. "What are you going on about, silly? Don't say things like that." She looked up at Bao. "I'm sorry, she says whatever fancy comes up to her without thinking, sometimes," she said, directing a scolding look at Ilawen.

"It is not a fancy. And she is correct. Nobody is going to attack you as long as I am around."

"You're… Demandred?" Karys asked dubiously.

"I was, yes. Is Neya awake?" Karys shook her head, scowling.

"Can we go dance?" Ilawen asked suddenly, pointing to a group of people in the distance. "I want to dance with Mazrim too!"

Bao glanced in the direction she indicated. There was Taim, dancing with Nessosin. Some things never changed. The Musician had never cared about attracting attention to him; quite the opposite, in fact. Even in the Age of Legends, two men dancing together had been considered an oddity, although nobody minded. He could not imagine what people would make of it in this backward Age, even in these circumstances. "Very well," he said with a sigh. "We can stay a little while, I suppose." Until Neya was awake, that was.


	73. He exists now only in my memory

Neya was awakened by Bao some time later. They were alone in the tent. "Is it night already?" she asked, noticing the gloom.

"The sun has just set," he said.

"Bao, I need to know something before we do anything else," she told him. She wasn't looking forward to this conversation, but she had indulged herself long enough. "Who died?" she murmured. She had to force the words out.

She had not expected him to sugar-coat it, and he didn't disappoint. "Shendla and Mintel. Galbrait. Torn and Abe." Light! Had everyone she knew been killed? She was too shocked to even cry. She had expected to hear Shendla was gone – Moghedien wouldn't have taken the woman's appearance without making certain she wouldn't show up to discredit her – but the others… Taimaka, Kal, and the Light knew how many more. "A good many of the generals, and the Ayyad Warriors were mostly decimated, as well as the Healers. The Freed, and the rest of the non-channelers…" He hesitated for a moment. "We managed to save some of them. A third, perhaps." Neya closed her eyes. This was even worse than she had anticipated. Of course, there was more. "Gawyn Trakand," he went on, "Siuan Sanche, Gareth Bryne, Davram Bashere." Well, she hadn't known these people for more than a few minutes. There was an ominous pause. "The Amyrlin Seat."

Her eyes flew opened at that. He had to be wrong. Egwene couldn't be dead. She searched his eyes. "Blood and ashes," she whispered eventually.

"The Aiel took a hard blow at the front near Shayol Ghul, as well as the Seanchan forces. I suppose everyone did," he amended softly.

"And Perrin?" Neya asked. Let him be alright, at least.

"Aybara is alive. Your… brother… as well, and his wife."

She frowned at him. "Perrin's wife?"

"No, your brother's," he told her.

She let out a snort of laughter. "Good one. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. Maybe your case is not desperate after all," she said wryly.

"It is not a joke," he told her with a faint scowl. "He married the Seanchan Empress some weeks past. I thought you knew."

She stared at him in astonishment. He didn't seem to be pulling her leg. "Mat? My brother, Matrim Cauthon, is _married_? He's the Emperor of flaming _Seanchan_?" Her voice kept rising as she said the words. It truly was preposterous.

"Not exactly," he put in. "The Empress is the foremost authority in Seanchan, she is their supreme leader. She is considered almost like a higher being. As I understand it, Cauthon stands just a step below her. They call him the Prince of the Ravens," he explained.

"May the Creator shelter us," she said. "Mat at the head of an Empire, or close enough." She chuckled. "If that's not a sure sign that the world almost ended, I don't know what is." She looked up at Bao once more. "Alright, what else?" she asked with a sigh. Might as well suffer it all at once.

"The reason I came to wake you," he told her, "is that al'Thor passed an hour ago. They will be burning his body in a short while."

"Rand? Light, I didn't even know he was alive! I assumed he died at Shayol Ghul, that's why I didn't ask about him," she said. Burn her for a woolheaded fool! Bao was fixing her with an odd expression on his face. "What?" she asked, more sharply than she'd intended.

"Moridin seems to be recovering," he said quietly, "according to al'Meara."

"Elan?" She shook her head in wonder. If there was one person she hadn't counted on to live past _Tarmon Gai'don_ , besides Rand himself… "I have to see him," she said, getting up. "Then I'll attend Rand's… cremation."

"Moridin was still unconscious when I last inquired, but I thought you would want to go," Bao said. "I will return to Shara in the meantime, if it is alright with you," he went on.

"Yes, of course," she replied. "Good idea. I'll join you soon. They don't want us here, anyway. I'll gather everyone after… when it's over," she finished lamely. She turned to him. "What should we do? About Elan, I mean? He can't stay here. They'll execute him. He made no deal. He never expected to live past this."

"Take him back to Shara with you, if they let you," Bao told her. "One more or one less…" he went on resignedly. "Who did you leave in charge at home?" he asked after a moment.

"Taki," she told him. He was one of the _abrishi_ , a former mercenary who now taught the sword to young soldiers. He was reasonably intelligent and patient. He seemed the best suited person to make decisions in their absence. Bao nodded in approval. "Who are you going to appoint as the new leader of the Ayyad?" she asked.

"Who are _we_ going to appoint, you mean," he rectified.

She grinned at him. "Yes, well, I have no clue. The few I liked or didn't hate are dead," she went on with a grimace.

"We can discuss it when you return."

"Fair enough. Where are the girls?" she asked.

"With M'Hael and Nessosin. And Ablar," he added.

She frowned at him, but he simply shrugged. "I'll take them with me when I come back. I suppose you'll be Traveling with the rest of the army now?" He nodded. "Good. I'll see you later." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. It lasted longer than she'd anticipated. "No, no, no, not now. I have to go," she said quickly, pushing him away firmly, if somewhat reluctantly. She stepped out of the tent before he could say anything.

* * *

She should have asked where Rand's funeral would take place, but she found the place easily enough. There weren't many people gathered around the pyre. She stood at a distance for a minute before walking away. She felt like she would be intruding. Better to find Elan and go back to Shara as soon as possible. As she neared one of the nearby tents, someone stepped out of it. It was him. Light, he really was alive! She ran to him. He turned to face her when he heard her approach, his eyes widening, but she hugged him tightly before he could speak. "Elan! You're alive, thank the Light," she whispered.

He groaned. "Neya…" He cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry." He carefully disentangled himself from her embrace. "It's me, Rand," he told her softly. She stared at him in confusion. What was he going on about? "I… well, that is, we… ah… swapped bodies. I'm not sure how it happened," he went on hastily. "We were linked somehow, you see, even before the battle began. My body, the one they're burning… It was beyond saving. And Elan…"

"Elan wanted an end to it all," she finished for him. Bloody ashes! "Rand, you don't have to apologise for being alive. Light, you of all people _deserve_ to be alive. I'm so glad you're alright." She really was, although she couldn't conceal her disappointment, not entirely. If she'd asked about it sooner, she might have been able to save them both. Blood and _flaming_ ashes! She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I really should be thanking you."

He frowned at her. "Thanking me?"

"You just saved the world, you woolhead!"

"Oh, that," he said sheepishly. "It was nothing," he told her with a grin. She chuckled. "I should be thanking you as well," he went on more seriously.

"Me? I spent most of the battle in a bloody palace, and then I slept through the rest of it," she muttered darkly.

"I was faltering," he said quietly. "I could feel every death, you know? The Dark One made me watch it all. I saw the Sharans appear with Demandred when no one expected them, destroying so many at once. I thought we were done for," he explained. "I was almost ready to give up. If you hadn't convinced Demandred to join our side…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how you did it. Lews Therin was adamant that he would never be turned, that he had given himself to the Shadow entirely, and Elan seemed to agree. And Taim… Light! What a mess I made at the Black Tower," he said wistfully. "Those men were my responsibility, Taim included, and I let them to fend for themselves. It's no wonder the man was drawn to the Shadow, considering the pathetic leader the Light had to make do with." He looked angry with himself, even now.

"Rand, you did what you could." She gave him a level look. "All those deaths, they are to be laid at the Dark One's feet. Don't let this unwarranted guilt crush you."

He didn't say anything for a long time. He was staring at the pyre, where his former body was being consumed by the flames, the body that had been Elan Morin Tedronai's last prison, for so short a time. Neya couldn't bring herself to look, now that she knew who was burning. There would be time to grieve later. "I hope you will consider naming him Rand," he said eventually.

She frowned at him perplexedly for a moment, until he pointed to her belly. His grin was back. "Right," she said with a smirk. "Very original. I'm sure no one else will think of that. He'll be one of a kind." Rand's grin widened. "Besides, it could be a girl."

"You could call her Randa," he supplied helpfully. She rolled her eyes. "No, you're right. It should be Lightbringer Jr.," he went on, unable to hold back his laughter this time.

She laughed with him. "You heard about that."

"Aye. I'm surprised you didn't consider Hawkwing for a husband. Do you think you'll have enough of those?" he asked teasingly.

"How dare you!" she said with mock outrage. "You lecher, do you think I don't know about your three women? Three! All at once! At least I have the decency to attend to only one of them at a time," she said with a leer. "And for the record, I only married one of them."

"And you didn't even invite me to the wedding," Rand said with a pout. It looked incredibly out of place on Moridin's face.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to organise a second ceremony anyway. Natti and the girls will kill me when they find out I got married without inviting them."

"Maybe you could hold a double ceremony with Mat and Fortuona," Rand suggested slyly.

"Brilliant idea!" she exclaimed. "Bao will be delighted." She couldn't help another guffaw when she imagined his reaction. Suddenly, she realised Rand was holding several bags. "You're leaving?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Nobody knows I'm… me. Well, very few people do, anyway," he amended.

She hugged him again, remembering the last time she'd held this body in the same manner. "Take care," she told him.

"You too," he replied quietly. He spared her a last glance when she finally released him, and then he walked away without another word.

She watched him as he disappeared in the distance before turning around decisively. Ignoring the pyre, she made her way back to her family.


	74. When love is not madness, it is not love

"Did you talk to him?" Bao asked.

"Yes, I did." She took a deep breath. "He doesn't want to… ah… do what you said." It still amazed him, how they eluded the word. "Well, it's not that he doesn't _want_ to," she amended, "he's just not…" She trailed off, frowning in concentration. "I don't know how to explain it. I guess it's not what he… needs… the most. Besides, he doesn't want to share." As if Taim hadn't repeated that at least a hundred times since they'd all settled in Shara. "He would like to bond me again, however."

"Bond you? Why on earth would he want to do that?" That didn't make any sense. If anything, it would make it worse for him – for everyone, really.

Neya shook her head uncertainly. "He says he knows how to mask it from his end whenever he wants to, as he did when I was here with you before, and he'll explain how to do it. He's just… I think he finds it comforting. It's hard to explain if you've never been bonded before."

"Do you feel as he does? Do _you_ want to bond him?"

"Yes, I do," she replied without hesitation. "But I told him I would talk to you first. I have a feeling you won't agree to it as easily as to… the other thing."

"You are correct in that regard," he told her. Of course he didn't like the idea of Taim intruding on her thoughts at any time. He had felt that offering to allow them to have sex whenever they wanted was generous enough. This was something else entirely; being bonded was much more intimate.

She sighed. "I thought so. I _told_ him so. We just don't have the same conceptions of the matter at all, you see. Jay thinks like you, apparently. It seems like being physical didn't mean much in the Age of Legends. It was almost like a pastime, the way you two make it sound. It's not like that for us. It's… almost insulting, really, the way you offer to share me like that. Not that you meant to be insulting," she added hastily. Of course he didn't! "But you must try to put yourself in his shoes. What if the situation was reversed? How would you feel if I was married to him and he proposed to let you… ah… well, you know… with me?"

He considered it for a moment. When she put it like that… "I would offer to duel him," he replied truthfully. If it was left to him, the problem would be solved quickly. Let them both fight over her; it was that simple. But she wouldn't let that happen, he knew very well. She cared too much for the Saldaean, and for him. Not that Bao exposed himself to any risk by duelling with the younger man.

Neya made it sound as if she cared the same amount for Taim as she did for Bao. How could that be? The way she cared about him alone appeared to be enough to encompass a whole nation. And she did have a whole nation to care for, not to mention two – no, three – children.

"Yeah, well, he can barely wield a sword. Even if he did…" She trailed off again.

"I know."

"Do _you_ want to bond me?" she asked suddenly.

He stared at her in surprise. He had never given that possibility a thought, as a matter of fact. That was probably a terrible idea. He had no trouble sharing his thoughts with her, or his feelings, to an extent, but to have her intruding his mind at all times… "No," he murmured. "I don't think I do."

"As I suspected. Then why is it a problem for me to bond Mazrim?" She sat down on the bed. Her pregnancy was beginning to weigh heavily on her. "I won't do it if you don't want me too," she told him before he had any chance to answer. "I just… I told him maybe it would be better for him to leave the palace if he didn't agree to your proposal, that it would be easier for everyone, but if I'm being honest, I would hate for him to go away. The bond…" She hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. "We only had a few days to enjoy it fully, before you showed up at the Black Tower, because after that he masked it and it might as well not have been there at all, at least for me, but I still feel the lack of it. It's like being parted with a vital organ, or having a phantom limb. I don't know how to put it better than that. And to have him so near, without actually _feeling_ him… It's disturbing. I feel… incomplete. I think it's even worse for him. Cleansing his mind from the taint, it left him vulnerable. He's got all these emotions to deal with, all at the same time… I think it would help in that regard as well." She looked up at him. She would never do anything he didn't agree with, but he could see how much it troubled her, how much she wanted this.

"Bond me," he told her. She frowned, obviously confused. "Just for a moment," he clarified. He had to see for himself before he made up his mind. If she loved Taim more than she cared about Bao, he couldn't possibly allow–

It caught him off guard. He felt her embrace the Source, of course, but… He stared at her in open astonishment. Thankfully, her eyes were closed. She looked like she was trying to pick his emotions apart, muttering to herself.

He knew she was a caring person, he knew how she felt about Taim, about the girls, whom she considered like her own flesh and blood, and even Nessosin, for whatever strange reason. How many hearts did she have? She couldn't possibly contain all that in only one. How she even managed to think amidst that chaos was beyond him. And he had been worried she might love Taim more than she loved him. That seemed ridiculous in hindsight.

"You're jealous," she said with a smug grin, eyes still closed. Of course he was. Why was she so amazed by that? Hadn't he made it clear enough that he cared for her? Did she think he enjoyed having to share her with another man, physically or emotionally? She was frowning once more, and her grin vanished abruptly as she opened her eyes to look at him. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know you love me. It's just odd to feel it first-hand like that. You're not very…. demonstrative." She stood up once more, with some difficulty, and walked up to him. "Your mind… It's incredible. Every emotion is neatly categorised and put away. It's so different from Mazrim's."

"I'm certainly glad to know that," he told her dryly. "You can remove it now," he added.

He felt a twinge of disappointment through the bond, but it was gone a second later. She was gone as well, leaving him blissfully alone with his own thoughts once more, although he understood now what she'd meant earlier about being parted with something vital. Not that it was vital to him, of course. That had to be one of the most bizarre things he had ever experienced. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked curiously.

"You may bond him if you wish."

What was it with _ta'veren_ and their multiple partners? By all accounts, al'Thor had been the same, just like Lews Therin before him. Marrying Ilyena had only slightly dampened his appetite for women, although apparently, that part of the story hadn't made it into the history books. How convenient.

In any case, Taim was the father of the child to come. He would be part of their life one way or another. Not to mention that Ilawen and Karys would be heartbroken if he went away. Bao supposed they would have to work it out as it came, one problem at a time. What would life be without a little madness?

* * *

 **Author's note** : Well. If you made it this far, you either somewhat liked the story or were desperately bored. Or both. I guess they're not mutually exclusive.

Reviews are amazing for the author, a real blessing, but maybe not so great for the reader, because, after all, you have to write them yourselves. Not everyone likes to write. I understand that. So what I propose is this: instead of writing a 10,000 words essay on the dichotomy of good and evil as pertaining to my humble story, how about you just tell me what your favourite chapter/moment/character was? And/or your least favourite? It will only take you a minute, and it will absolutely make my day, as well as help me for any future story I might write (who am I kidding, I'm always writing). Just one minute, folks. You've spent hours reading the whole thing, surely you can waste one more minute to type one tiny sentence…

Yes, I'm definitely guilt-inducing (Is that even a word?) you to write something, anything. And I hope it's working. You have no idea how important it is.

Thanks for reading to the end, in any case. It means a lot to me.


	75. Epilogue

"Jay, can you hold the baby while I make Ila's braid?" Mazrim asked irritatingly. The bloody man was drinking chilled wine on the balcony, looking as unconcerned as ever.

"Why me?" he said sulkily. He was wearing a golden silk shirt with so much lace at the cuffs that Mazrim wondered how he could even hold his goblet.

"Would you rather do the braid?" Mazrim countered wryly.

"I'll take her," Karys offered happily.

Mazrim handed Yasmin over carefully and started working on her sister's hair. "Let's just remove the crown for a moment, shall we?" he told Ilawen.

She took off the extravagant tiara and held it reverently. "Make the braids tight!" she shouted as if he couldn't hear her from all the way behind her.

"Aye, Princess, but it would be easier if you stopped tossing your head around," he said.

She stood still for a few seconds. "Do you think Uncle Knotai will let us play with the _lopar_?"

"Are we still calling him that?" Jay asked.

"Queen's orders," Mazrim replied with a grin. Jay snorted. To Ilawen, he said, "I don't think you're supposed to play with the… beast." He had been about to say 'monster'. The _lopar_ was impressive, and not in a good way. There was a knock on the door. "Can you at least open the door?" he asked Jasin when no one reacted. The other man complied, but not without sighing. Peace! He was worse than the girls, sometimes.

It was Bao, looking very kingly in black thread with gold. He frowned when he saw that Jasin wore gold too, to Mazrim's great amusement.

"Everyone ready?" the King asked.

"Almost," Mazrim told him. Ilawen was beginning to fidget again.

"Neya could have done that," Bao stated.

"But Mazrim does it better. That's because he had lots of practice because he was raised in a brothel," Ila declared cheerfully. Bao narrowed his eyes slightly. "It's a place where ladies trade favours for money," she recited.

"Is it really?" Bao asked dangerously, glaring at Mazrim.

He returned Bao's gaze without blinking. "I wouldn't have had to disclose so much information if _someone_ hadn't blurted out the word without thinking," Mazrim said. Jasin stuck out his tongue at him.

"I saw that," Neya said when she walked in. She looked dazzling as always with her colourful blouse and simple crown tastefully inlaid with tiny gems. She had regained her former figure after giving birth a few months ago. To be fair, she had looked just as beautiful when she was nearing term as she did now. She must have caught most of that from the bond, because she gave him a bright smile.

Jasin cocked his head toward Mazrim. "He started it."

Neya chuckled softly, turning to Bao. "In retrospect, perhaps you were right. We shouldn't have adopted four children at once," she told him ruefully.

Bao shook his head. "Well, it's too late now, they've become attached. It would be cruel to separate them," he said with a twitch of his mouth. He was getting better at this, although Mazrim still had to see him laugh properly. At least he seemed to have endorsed contractions in his speech.

There was a loud crash as Lews knocked over the wine pitcher. The girls laughed and Ilawen set to chase it around the room. Mazrim was certain the monkey was doing it on purpose, but Jasin insisted that they keep the fiend anyway. It was fated, he said. He wasn't sure who had first come up with the pet's name, but it was one of the rare things that made Bao genuinely smile.

Naturally, the noise woke up the baby. It was Bao who took her up; the man seemed to have a soothing effect on her. He had expected Neya to name her after the late Amyrlin, or maybe after her own mother. Instead, she said she wanted to name her after Mazrim's mother, and so was born Yasmin. Thankfully, Sharans didn't bother with last names, so they didn't have to go through the ordeal of picking out one for her. That would have been an epic argument. As usual, Yasmin's cries receded after a few moments. Bao looked up at them all. "Shall we?"

* * *

The rebuilding of the Court of the Nine Moons was still underway, but even so, the place was larger than she had imagined. Light, this chamber alone was grander than the entire East Wing of her palace! Not that it mattered, of course. The Seanchan had to compensate for their horrendous way of life, somehow.

There were many guests, as was to be expected, most of them unknown to her. They looked like Seanchan nobles – the Blood, as they were called. What a jolly name.

Tuon herself was sitting on the Crystal Throne, looking more regal than Neya could ever hope to appear, and that despite having given birth only eight days past. Blasted woman.

Her brother was nowhere in sight, nor was Neya's new-born nephew. Which was odd, since everyone was gathered on this day precisely to greet him into the world. She searched around for faces she recognised and spotted Loial right away. The Ogier was talking animatedly to Perrin, Neya realised. She made her way toward them, after indicating to Bao and the others that they could go wherever they wanted. Perrin gave her a crushing hug, as he always did when he saw her. Light, but his beard was getting longer and bushier every time they met. Was he trying to turn it into a bird's nest? She wondered what Faile thought about it. Then again, knowing the woman, it might have been her idea from the start. "Lord Goldeneyes," she said formally when he released her.

Her old friend snorted. "Your Highness," he countered teasingly.

"I told you, we don't use titles in Shara," she scolded him amiably. "Loial," she went on, turning to the Ogier, "it's good to see you again." Thankfully, he didn't try to imitate Perrin. They bowed to each other instead. Loial had spent quite a bit of time in Shara in the past few months, collecting material for his book. He had interviewed Bao, Mazrim and Jasin, and even Neya herself, but he had really spent most of his days – and nights – in the Library. He had been a charming guest, and Neya had become good friends with Erith, his wife. Both Ogier had also been very solicited by the girls, which hadn't seemed to bother them in the least. They had been their only guests so far, besides Neya's family. "How's Erith?"

"She is well, thank you. She passes along her greetings, but she was too occupied to join us, I'm sorry to say," Loial said in that booming voice of his. "The rebuilding is monopolising most of her time. Well, most of everyone's time, in reality," he amended. "I couldn't miss the opportunity to visit Seandar, however. We are unlikely to be invited very often. Did you know that their library is said to be the largest in the world?" the Ogier told her with not a little awe.

"I did not know that," she replied truthfully. She turned back to Perrin. "How's the overhaul in the Two Rivers?"

"It's going well. Very well, in fact. You wouldn't believe the number of people who decided to stop by on their way home to pay their respects to the Dragon Reborn's homestead. They all want to give a hand once they arrive," he explained. "Thank you again for providing all that ore on such short notice," he added.

"Of course," she told him dismissively. As discussed before the Last Battle, Bao had conceived, with Mazrim and Jasin's help, a network of gateway platforms located in all of Shara, to improve access to the land's resources and to allow all its citizens to reach Shara's main cities and buildings. They planned to expand the system to the Westlands, but it would be some time before the nations' leaders accepted any help from Shara and its leaders. Perrin hadn't minded, however. "I hope Faile is well?" she asked him. Truth be told, Neya wasn't particularly fond of Perrin's wife, who was now Queen of Saldaea. But Perrin obviously considered her like perfection personified, so she asked out of politeness. The woman had lost both her parents in the fighting and had almost died herself.

"She's fine. She's mostly recovered," Perrin said. "She's busy overseeing… well, everything… in Saldaea." Yes, she would be. She seemed like a control freak if Neya had ever met one, and she'd known several indeed, Nynaeve foremost among them.

Speaking of the former Wisdom, Neya spotted her and Lan a few paces away, discussing with a rather short man, a Cairhienin by the looks of him. She excused herself and joined them. "Hail, Lightbringer," the Malkieri King greeted her, bowing his head.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Dai Shan," she replied with mock formality. "Aes Sedai," she said to Nynaeve, which earned her a scowl. She turned to the other man. "I'm Neya," she said simply, extending a hand.

The man smiled as he shook her hand. "Talmanes Delovinde," he introduced himself. "At your service, Your Highness."

"You're Talmanes? It's good to finally meet you. Knotai rarely stops talking about you and all the adventures you two had. He speaks highly of you," she told him with a grin.

Talmanes chuckled. "Prince Knotai is too kind," he said. "Have you seen him, by the way?"

"Ah, there you are," Knotai called out, right on cue. "Come with me," he told Neya. He nodded to Talmanes, who raised his goblet in acknowledgment. "Come on," he said again, more urgently.

"What's going on?" she asked curiously. "Please tell me you haven't lost your son already."

He glared at her. "Blood and ashes! Why does everyone keep saying that?" he muttered sourly. "I know where he is, burn you. What I _don't_ know," he went on, "is how to put that flaming ridiculous _thing_ he's supposed to be wearing." They walked for a good five minutes before reaching her nephew's bedroom. No one was there, except for the baby in his crib. "Look at _that_!" he grumbled, waving an oddly shaped piece of cloth in front of her nose. She had to admit that it didn't look like something with which any sane person would dress an infant. Those Seanchan were truly strange.

"Does he really have to wear it?"

"Well, that depends. Do you want me to suffer a fatal accident sometime in the next few days?" he asked sarcastically – and rhetorically, she assumed. "Yes, he has to bloody wear it. She insisted." There was no need to specify who 'she' was.

"Don't you have servants to help with these things?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She didn't have servants to dress her children, let alone herself, but this seemed like a case where an experienced maid would come in handy.

"It's… complicated," he replied with a tremendous sigh. Likely, he had done something that required some form of punishment from Tuon. "Come on, we can do this," he whispered, more to himself than to Neya. They did manage, eventually, although she wasn't certain the poor boy would ever come out of the contraption. "Alright, let's get back quickly. We're already late."

The guest of honour having finally been introduced to the assembled crowd, the ceremony could begin. She wasn't sure what the ceremony was for; all she knew for certain was that it involved naming the child. It was a lengthy, tedious business.

She joined her family and they all sat with her parents and sisters on the benches. Everyone got along well and they saw each other reasonably often, all the more since the wedding – her second wedding – in the Two Rivers five months ago. She had loved the first ceremony, of course, the one Mintel had performed in Shara what seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had been nice to have Abell lead her to the altar, with Perrin speaking the binding words and her whole family being gathered at the same time. Bao had been oddly compliant when she'd announced that she wanted to get married once more, in front of a bunch of people he'd never met. The girls had been delighted, naturally, both her sisters and her daughters. Even Mazrim appeared to enjoy himself, and Jasin had magnanimously agreed to play the harp. Knotai had been allowed to attend, although Tuon had made no appearance – thankfully. A surprising number of people had shown up for the event, Lan and Nynaeve among them, as well as Min Farshaw, Logain and some of the Asha'man she knew from the early days of the Black Tower, and even Moiraine and her husband, Thom Merrilin. The old gleeman had provided entertainment without being asked, to Neya's delight and that of everyone present.

Before the wedding, things had been… tense, to say the least. They had finally agreed to sign the Dragon's Peace, of course, although amendments had to be made to accommodate for Shara. There had been several meetings involving the leaders of the Westlands – excepting the Seanchan; they weren't quite there yet, not after the Empress had almost choked when she discovered the deal made with Egwene – some of whom demanded that the former Forsaken be brought to justice. Fortunately, the new Amyrlin Seat, Cadsuane Melaidhrin, had been on their side from the beginning, as well as Lan and Nynaeve, Perrin, Logain, and even Elayne Trakand, if somewhat more reluctantly. They argued that Egwene had sworn to keep the terms of the agreement made in the name of all those of served the Light, while the others claimed that there were no written contract and that, in any case, Egwene al'Vere was dead. That had brought on a clamour of outraged protests. That particular meeting had been adjourned after the Amyrlin gave up trying to obtain silence and simply walked out of the meeting chamber. They were all slowly coming around, but it would be some time before they could speak of commerce or Traveling arrangements with Shara. One step at a time.

Finally, the seemingly endless ceremony came to an end. The guests were released and offered an assortment of Seanchan delicacies that Neya was convinced Tuon had carefully selected to make sure they wouldn't extend their welcome in Seandar. The Sharans had some bizarre treats to offer, to be sure, but those were not just peculiar; she wondered if they were even edible. And the monkey's brains were certainly there just to annoy her in particular.

She had been afraid that Bao and the others would be shunned out today – it was incredible enough that they'd been invited; she probably had her brother to thank for that – but Karys was talking to Loial and Erith animatedly, Bao was discussing with Moiraine, and Mazrim and Jasin were in conversation with Lan and Perrin. As expected, Ilawen was petting the _lopar_. Knotai had assured Neya that it wouldn't hurt a fly, not unless Tuon ordered it too, anyway. That was only partially reassuring.

Knotai joined her a moment later, Havran in hands. She wasn't sure what to think of the name and, judging from her brother's scowl, neither was he. It simply meant 'raven' in the Old Tongue. How original. "Who would have thought someone so adorable could be related to you?" she said teasingly.

"Well, I only provided half the material," he told her with a grin.

Thinking about the baby, she started suddenly. "Where's Yasmin?" she asked, looking around the room. She hadn't been with the men.

"Don't worry, I've got her," someone called from behind. Neya turned to find Min Farshaw holding her daughter. "You're lucky," she went on, "she looks just like you."

"I'm not sure that's lucky for her," Knotai said with a smirk. Neya punched his arm.

Min had met with them several times since the Last Battle, sometimes working as a mediator for the Westlanders, and they got along quite well. The last time they had seen her, Min was dividing her time between helping Elayne Trakand with her twins, Gawyn and Tigraine, and providing aid to the masses of refugees from all nations. Many people were still without homes, especially in the Borderlands.

There were so many things to do. They had won the battle, but rebuilding would take years, even if the western leaders allowed Shara to assist and provide material and workforce. Countless families had been broken, children had been orphaned; to the best of their estimates, the world's population had been reduced by at least a fifth since Rand had proclaimed himself the Dragon Reborn.

But they were alive. They had survived _Tarmon Gai'don._ They had withstood the Shadow and the Dark One itself had been shut out. They would endure, as people did since time immemorial, and from their ordeal they would arise, stronger than ever.

* * *

She opened her eyes, aware that she was in bed. Not her current bed, but the one in which where she had spent so much time huddling after Elan brought her in this strange little room in the middle of the ocean. What an odd place to dream herself in, after so long.

She had come back here only once – in the waking world – since Elan had died, to retrieve his books. She had been afraid that Lanfear might have done away with them, or destroyed the entire place altogether, but it seemed the woman had other things on her mind at the time and couldn't be bothered. There had been no _ter'angreal_ , no object of Power of any kind for her to use, and the Forsaken had dismissed the rest as worthless.

Neya walked to the other room and suffered a small shock. It was very different from what she remembered. All the books seemed to be back on their shelves, and they looked oddly new, as if someone had just bound them in leather. The whole place appeared changed. It was more… welcoming… somehow. She realised that there were several windows overlooking the sea and brightening the room. The walls were painted in blue to match the colour of the water outside.

How odd. It made sense for her to conjure the place in her dreams, since she had spent so much time here, but why did everything look different?

Then she understood why. It wasn't her doing at all.

There was a man in the armchair, near the fireplace. A tall, dark-haired man.

"Hello, pet."

* * *

 **Authors' note:** That's all folks!

Well, not exactly. I couldn't seem to stop writing, so there'll be a few bonus chapters, with no particular relevance to the story.

If you've made it this far, congratulations on your perseverance. Feel free to contact me for questions or anything else.

In case it wasn't obvious, English is not my native language, so I apologise for possible spelling/grammar mistakes. Please let me know if something is incomprehensible.

Thank you for reading!


	76. Bao - Hate is too great a burden to bear

**Author's note:** Consider the next five chapters like bonuses. Chronologically, they take place before the epilogue.

* * *

" _Such an amazing device! I wish I'd had one during the early days of my adventures… It will be a great help to write my book. I have so many more people to talk to! What did you say it was called?"_

" _A recorder."_

" _A recorder, yes. Brilliant! I wonder what other devices from the Age of Legends will be uncovered or rediscovered now that you and Master Natael are… ah…"_

" _Now that we are inclined to share that knowledge with you."_

" _Indeed!"_ [A pause] _"May we begin?"_ [Another pause] _"I would like to start with the part you played in the Last Battle, if it's all the same to you. While the memories are still fresh, so to speak. Ahem. I suppose the first question is rather obvious. What made you change your mind at the very last moment? Why join our side when the Shadow was apparently so close to victory?"_

" _I came to defeat Lews Therin, and Lews Therin was not there."_ [A pause] _"I suppose I finally realised how futile it was. In all the years since I pledged my soul to the Dark One, Lews Therin was all I could think about. He was the reason behind every move and decision I made. Destroying him had become an obsession. I was aware of that, of course. I simply did not care. I felt that the satisfaction his demise would bring me would be worth all the sacrifices I made."_

" _What sacrifices?"_

" _My life, essentially. I forswore everything I stood for, abandoned everyone I knew. All for a man who, in the end, would not even deign acknowledge me."_

" _Why did you hate Lews Therin Telamon, the original Dragon? And why transfer that hate to Rand al'Thor, who was not, after all, the man you had despised for so long?"_

" _Al'Thor was Lews Therin reborn. They were one and the same to me. We used to be friends, he and I. We grew up together, but the time we spent studying at the Collam Daan changed us. I came to realise that he was not the man I thought he was. He invested too much time and energy in trivial matters. I suppose we grew apart, as people do, but it didn't stop there. During our years in V'saine, we would test each other in all sorts of challenges. It started out amiably but quickly became something else. He often had the upper hand, you see, and it began to annoy me, then it got frankly frustrating. I could have put an end to it. I should have, but I didn't. I wanted to best him, to show everyone I was more than Lews Therin's second. I always walked in his shadow, in these days, but it never bothered me until people started to notice it. We parted ways altogether soon after we graduated, not on good terms, although I doubt it affected him. He always made a great show of being compassionate and sympathetic, you see, but it was all on the outside. In truth, he was ambitious and greedy, more so than I ever was, maybe as much as any of the other Chosen ever were. He went to great length to get what he wanted, and did not always achieve it in the most moral or ethical manner."_ [A pause] _"I don't mean to say he was a complete idiot. He had brains, and he knew how to use them. I don't mean that he was a bad person, either. He wasn't. Nobody is, when you really think about it. Nothing is all black or white. People are not all Shadow or Light."_ [A long silence] _"I'm sorry, what was the question again?"_

" _We were talking about why you hated him."_

" _Ah, yes. I didn't see him for many decades after I left the Collam Daan. When I got back from my travels, he was the same man he had always been. Arrogant, vain, competitive. I had changed. I gained maturity and poise. I saw no point in reintegrating any kind of social life when I returned. Everyone was so false, so unauthentic. I spend years writing and researching, and it was at that time that I became acquainted with Elan Morin."_

" _Ishamael?"_

" _Yes. He was a professor at the Collam Daan, a teacher of philosophy and theology, two subjects to which I had taken a vast interest over the years. We worked together, wrote several books, published some essays."_

" _That was before the Collapse?"_

" _Indeed, many years before. Our collaboration lasted for about two decades, until we found ourselves lacking new material. He decided to retire for a time, and I was offered his position in V'saine, which I kept for over fifty years."_

" _How did you earn your third name? Was it thanks to one of the books you wrote?"_

" _Not one of them in particular, but rather thanks to all of them. A third name was generally awarded following one's accomplishments over the course of their career, although there were exceptions. Nemene Damendar, for example, received hers after discovering a new Healing method in the field of surgery, an exceptional breakthrough that led her to become one of the youngest people with a third name. Nessosin earned his after only two centuries of creating musical masterpieces, when in fact artists were rarely granted a third name."_

" _Where were you during the Collapse?"_

" _The Collapse lasted over a century, so I assume you want to know where I was when the Bore was drilled and the Sharom shattered?"_ [A brief pause] _"I wasn't in V'saine at the time. I had long since opted for a new position, one that brought me back to the city where I was born, Adanza. It possessed the largest library in the world, and I was part of the committee that viewed new manuscripts to be published, among other tasks. You have to understand that, despite the obvious damage done to the university, the world didn't change overnight after the drilling of the Bore. We rebuilt the Collam Daan, and things degenerated too slowly for us to truly grasp the extent of the incident. Too slowly at first, anyway."_

" _Did Ishamael try to recruit you from the start, just after he betrayed the world and publicly pledged his soul to the Dark One?"_

" _Ishamael never approached me, though others did. Lanfear and Graendal, and other Chosen that were not sealed in the Dark One's prison. Of course, it's quite possible that they were sent by Ishamael. He must have thought women were more likely to win me over."_

" _Speaking of women, Rand once mentioned that you both… well, that is, that both you and Lews Therin fought over Ilyena Sunhair. Is that true? Did their marriage inflame your hate toward him?"_

" _We never 'fought' over her. I courted Ilyena for a while, before Lews Therin set his sights on her. It might have turned into something interesting, I suppose, if he hadn't come along. She fell for him instantly, however, and he for her. What do you call it? Love at first sight, it was. I was there when it happened. Ilyena and I were having dinner at the Ansaline Gardens when Lews Therin walked in with some colleagues. They didn't take their eyes off each other for the rest of the evening. It was rankling, I'll admit, and more than a little unflattering, obviously, but I saw her more as a prize than a potential spouse. It was just another item to add to an already extensive list of irritating things done to me by Lews Therin. I'm still not sure what she saw in the man. She certainly deserved better than him."_

" _How was your relation to the other Forsaken? The other twelve that made it into this Age, in any case."_

" _It was almost inexistent. I answered to Ishamael, and later to Moridin, because I had no other option. Semirhage and I had an agreement that we would work together until the Last Battle, and Mesaana joined our little alliance shortly afterward. I trusted neither of them, evidently, no more than I trusted Ishamael. The others… I only saw them on the rare occasions when Ishamael forced us to gather, and ignored them otherwise."_

" _And Master Natael? Asmodean?"_

" _I don't think I ever said more than a few words to him."_ [A short pause] _"That is, until he invited himself over in my palace, of course."_

" _Ahem. And Mazrim? Were you the one who recruited him?"_

" _I was the one who allowed him to escape the Red Ajah, after his ultimate defeat as a False Dragon. I acted on Ishamael's orders. I didn't take Taim to Shayol Ghul, however."_

" _Why did Neya end up Shara with you? Was it Ishamael who told you to… recruit her?"_

" _Not at all. I was aware of her history with Ishamael and Lanfear, and of what happened to her after she was released into al'Thor's care. Someone suggested that I bring her here. I was told that she was important to my plans."_

" _Was it this… Shendla… who told you that? The woman whom Moghedien impersonated during the battle?"_

" _Yes."_

" _How did she know Neya was important? Was she a Dreamer?"_

" _A Dreamer, or something else. I assume she had visions, of a sort. She never explained exactly how she knew, but I trusted her. She never failed me."_

" _But she deceived you, didn't she?"_

" _I accused her of deception, yes, but she had the right of it. I should have paid more attention to what she was saying. She was trying to lead me on this path from the very beginning. I was simply too intent on my pursuit to see it."_

" _You lost a rather large part of your army in the battle."_

" _Many lives were claimed during_ Tarmon Gai'don _. There is no such thing as a bloodless victory. We avenged our people by vanquishing our enemies and then we mourned our losses, just like everyone else."_

" _But weren't you angry that it was Neya who brought this on? If she hadn't diverted your attention away from the battle, it might have turned out differently."_

" _If she hadn't done what she did, Ogier, we would all be dead."_

" _Ahem. As you say. What are your plans for the future?"_

" _We will build a new Shara. As I told the Amyrlin before I joined the Light, I intend to open it for commerce and Travel, when the Westlands are ready to accept it. We are already working on developing new cities at strategic locations, and we've set several Traveling platforms across the land. This is what I wanted to do from the beginning, you know. I was just going the wrong way about it. They opened my eyes, Shendla and Neya and the others."_

" _And the world will forever be grateful to them for that. I think I have what I need for now. Thank you for your time."_

" _It is ever an honour to assist, Treesinger."_

" _Oh, I almost forgot. You're the king here, and yet every servant I've encountered thus far seems to be calling you Bao._ _Is this a Sharan custom?"_

" _There has never been a king in Shara, so custom has no say in the matter. Sharans rarely use titles, however, unless formality is called for. I think I will leave it at that, at least for the time being. Let people get used to my new name, and forget the previous ones."_


	77. Jay - That favourite subject, myself

" _Oh good, you have a recorder. Where did you get it?"_

" _Bao gave it to me."_

" _What? That's unfair. All I got from him was a contemptuous scowl."_

" _Ahem. Speaking of Bao, he claims that you barely knew each other, even when you were both allies, as Forsaken. Is that so?"_

" _Absolutely. Then again, he rarely spoke to anyone. Besides, I wouldn't say we were allies. None of us ever considered the others as such, no matter what shaky agreements we made. We were all rivals."_

" _You worked alongside Lanfear for a while, when you were following Rand in the Waste."_

" _I didn't have much choice. She sought me out because she supposedly knew how to turn al'Thor to our side and needed my help. In retrospect, I'm fairly certain she had planned this all along. She wanted me to teach him, no matter the cost to my person."_

" _Why didn't you have a choice? Was she... higher than you in the hierarchy?"_

[A snigger] _"She certainly thought she was."_ [A pause] _"I just find that humouring her was easier than refusing her. Besides, with Ishamael gone, she was probably the most likely to become_ Nae'blis _. In any case, I wasn't doing anything else, really."_

" _Where were you at the time?"_

" _In Bandar Eban. I was gathering information regarding this Age before deciding on a course. I spent most of my time in the Terhana Library."_

" _Did any of your former associates attempt to contact you after Rand severed your link to the Dark One?"_

[A dark chuckle] _"Any contact would have likely resulted in my death. Graendal tried to kill me when I was in Caemlyn, just after the skirmish against Rahvin. But, you know, I had already died once that day, so I told her to come back some other time."_ [A pause] _"If Neya hadn't been there… Well, there's no point dwelling on that now. Semirhage came close to killing me as well, when she almost bested al'Thor. She paid the ultimate price for that 'almost', as I'm sure you know."_

" _Indeed."_ [A pause] _"You met Neya when you were in the Waste. How did you-"_

" _That's not quite true, actually. I was there when Lanfear broke into Ishamael's lair. That was the first time I saw her."_

" _I haven't heard Neya's story yet. She doesn't seem too enthusiastic about being interviewed."_

" _She's been through a lot, Treesinger. I'm sure she's not looking forward to retelling it all. Anyway, it's not my place to give you her story."_

" _No, of course not."_ [A pause] _"Is there a story behind the pet monkey? I assumed it was the children's fancy, but they assured me it was your idea."_

" _Yes, it was indeed. It's all because of Miss Farshaw, you see. Months ago, when we were in Far Madding, I finally gave in to temptation and asked her if she'd ever had an interesting reading about me."_

" _Did Min know who you were at the time?"_

" _I'm not sure. She must have at least suspected."_

" _And the reading… involved a monkey?"_

" _It did! I assumed she was making fun of me – Light knows she hates to be asked what she sees – but when I found out Neya had been in Shara all this time, I began to wonder. Sure enough, the moment we settled down in the palace, a monkey appeared on the balcony. It was fated, I'm telling you."_

" _Speaking of settling down, is everyone accommodating in the palace?"_

" _Oh yes, perfectly. Mazrim and I have our own room, on the other side of the building from Bao's bedchamber, to avoid running into each other too much, and the girls are somewhere in between."_ [A pause] _"As for Neya, we just share her."_

" _Oh, that's not what I meant at all! I don't want to pry into… ah… private matters."_

" _I know, but it amuses me, the way your ears twitch when you're embarrassed. I was just joking, by the way."_ [A pause] _"Don't tell her I said that."_

" _Ahem."_ [A long silence] _"Can you tell me more about your past, before you became one of the Forsaken?"_

" _Gladly. Where to start? I was born in Shorelle, a port town of no particular interest, but we moved to Tzora when I was very young. Tzora was magnificent, even by the standards of our Age."_ [A pause] _"What do you want to know, exactly? Because there's much to tell."_

" _Tell me about your family."_

" _If it could be called that."_ [A snigger] _"I was the youngest child in a brood of thirteen. Yes, thirteen. But that's not the worst part. The other twelve were all girls. Apparently, my mother was intent on having a boy, from the very beginning, and she didn't quit until she got one. Moreover, while other channelers of our Age rarely had children in the first place, my dear mother had us all at intervals of one or two years. My eldest sister was nineteen when I was born. I was my mother's favourite, evidently – she had waited long enough to have me – and it didn't sit well with my sisters, as you can imagine. They were left to fend for themselves from that moment on, and I was ever the centre of attention. That hasn't changed, some will say."_ [A snort of laughter] _"To summarise, my sisters hated me and my mother worshipped me."_

" _What about your father?"_

" _He was never around. Well, obviously he had been around at least thirteen times before my birth, but it seemed he felt as neglected as my sisters did, afterward. We didn't talk much, the few times he was there. We had nothing in common. He was not even a channeler. My mother was an Aes Sedai, of course, a person of great influence. I don't think anyone ever understood her sudden decision to abandon her political career to start a family – and even less her marriage to my father. He was a janitor. A janitor! Can you imagine?"_ [A snigger] _"Anyway. I grew up thinking I was the Creator made flesh, thanks to my mother. I felt I was entitled to everything, and she seemed to feel that way as well. At that point, you're probably wondering why I severed her and handed her over to the Eyeless. At least, I assume you already know about that?"_

" _I do. Ahem. It is indeed difficult to puzzle out."_

" _The problem is that she set high expectations for my future, unrealistic ones. She wanted me to be everything she had been, as well as all the things my father never was, or could be. She wanted me to be the most powerful Aes Sedai, the most successful politician, in short, the most prominent man of the Age. With that sort of prospects in mind, is it not a matter of course that I felt entitled?"_ [A pause] _"I knew early on that I wanted to be a musician. When I was a child, I demanded to receive lessons in the musical arts, and my mother consented, but reluctantly. As I grew older, she said I had to put aside these trivial pursuits and focus on a proper career. She wouldn't allow me to attend courses at the Academy of the Arts in Mar Ruois. Instead, I spent years – decades – studying at the Collam Daan. Law, politics, diplomacy, trade, foreign affairs… I hated it. I was bored to death. I joined a musical band when I was at the University – a fact unknown to my mother, evidently – but when we were offered an opportunity to become famous, I had to decline. My mother would have cut me off entirely, had she found out, and I couldn't afford that. When I finally graduated, having learned everything I was supposed to know and thus becoming an Aes Sedai, I resolved to confront my mother. It was an epic argument, and it ended with my mother disowning me altogether. She threw me out of the house without further ado, after making sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was."_ [A long silence] _"In truth, I never liked her. She considered me more like a pet project than a human being capable of feeling. She was living through me, and she had no regard for what I wanted. I don't think she was capable of loving. All that mattered to her was her place in the world, in society, and what legacy she would leave after her death. She groomed me to become that perfect, ideal legacy, and she spoiled me in the process. She ruined me. If you were wondering why I'm so cynical and bitter, well, that's why."_

" _Ahem. And after that, I suppose you joined the Academy of Mar Ruois?"_

" _Indeed. I spent six years there and graduated with the highest honours. Everyone seemed to agree that I was destined to be a grand musician, and I thought the day I became famous was only moments away. I believed everyone was going to fight over me, that the most difficult part would be to choose the best suited impresario. Instead I spent years struggling to earn a living. Being an artist in our days… It was nothing like the gleemen of this Age. It didn't matter how talented you were. If you didn't know the right people, you got nowhere. To be fair, that was the case with many positions, and it only became worse the higher you wanted to climb."_

" _But you did become famous, eventually, didn't you?"_

" _Oh, of course. I met Elan, and he introduced me to all the right people. It was only a matter of weeks after that. Although, as you probably already know, I never made it to the top, something I still can't quite figure out, or stomach. I_ was _better than everyone else, you know. I still am."_

" _I'm sure that's true. Is this lack of proper recognition the reason you ultimately went over to the Shadow?"_

" _Absolutely."_

" _Nothing else?"_

" _No."_ [A pause] _"Well… I supposed I was a bit bored, too."_

" _I… see. Ahem. What are your plans now? I understand Bao has enlisted you for that gateway project, but do you have anything else in mind?"_

" _We've discussed the establishment of several cities in the nearby future, and Bao wants to recreate the Collam Daan and the other universities and academies of our Age. Well, he wants them to be even grander, in truth. He still has some delusions of grandeur, although Neya is doing her best to moderate his enthusiasm. In any case, I could see myself a governor of the city that will shelter the new Academy of the Arts. It would make sense, as I'm sure you'll agree. And I think he wants Mazrim to administer the Collam Daan – or whatever he decides to call it. The Sharans have a propensity to come up with ridiculous names for their buildings, an odd habit for people who lack even a second name."_ [A pause] _"I have no intention of working myself to death, however. I fully intend to live this new life to the full. After being comatose for three thousand years, then being literally resurrected, I believe a break is in order. I think a century or two will do."_

" _Indeed. Well, I wish you luck in your… aspirations. Thank you for your time."_

" _It's been my pleasure, Treesinger. I'm always available if you need more material for your book. Just try to schedule it a little later in the day, next time."_

" _Thank you. I'll keep that in my mind."_


	78. Mazrim - When in doubt, choose to live

" _This device will remember everything we say?"_

" _Yes. It's called a recorder. When we're done, I can listen to our conversation as many times as I want to write it all down at leisure. Isn't it amazing?"_

" _It is."_ [A pause] _"Do you ask questions or…?"_

" _Yes, yes indeed. I suppose we should start with how you became a Darkfriend in the first place. It's strange, but I remember meeting you, after Dumai's Wells, and thinking you could have made a good Dragon Reborn. You seemed so poised, so calm in the face of all that was happening. Not that Rand wasn't competent, of course, that's not what I'm saying. But if things had turned out differently…"_

" _To be fair, I hadn't just been abducted by Aes Sedai, beaten and locked up in a chest for days."_ [A pause] _"I used to think the same. I might have been a decent saviour of the world, if given a chance. But I was already a Darkfriend at the time. It's been over a decade since I first encountered Ishamael."_

" _A decade! I assumed one of the Forsaken reached out to you after you were captured by the Red Ajah, or maybe that you were set up as a False Dragon by one of them. I didn't even know Ishamael had been freed for so long."_

" _I don't know exactly how long he's been out and about, but I can tell you he was already mad then."_ [A pause] _"I had just begun channeling in earnest when I met him. I was using the few weaves I knew to destroy Trollocs and other Shadowspawn across the Blight. I was expecting death at pretty much any moment, whether at the hand of a Myrdraal or from a sudden burst of madness. Either would have been fine."_ [A long silence] _"I know there's no good reason for becoming a Darkfriend, that one cannot accidentally pledge oneself to the Shadow, so don't take any of it as an excuse for my actions. I was given three options, and I picked the one I thought was the lesser evil, as far as my interests were concerned, anyway. Death at the hand of the most dreaded of the Forsaken wasn't particularly appealing, you see, and neither was Turning."_ [A pause] _"If I'm being honest, I would probably make the same choice every time. I figured that if I was allowed to keep my mind, as well as my life, I could still turn the situation around somehow, some day. Besides, I was promised that I wouldn't go insane. I still don't know if Ishamael lied about that or if I was mad before he even appeared."_

" _I just want to make it clear that this is not a judgment in any way. I'm an impartial listener, nothing more."_ [A brief pause] _"How did you find out you could channel? What happened?"_

" _I was working as a clerk in Kayacun back then, in the service of a wealthy merchant. It was nothing, really. I had been working all night to finish tax papers for the next day and I almost spilled the inkwell. It froze in mid-air. I sat staring at it for I don't know long, until my employer called out from his office. I was startled, and the inkwell finished its initial course."_ [A pause] _"At first I thought I'd dreamed it, that I was exhausted and imagining things. The head clerk sent me home when he saw the mess and told me not to bother coming back. I was sick the following day, and that's when I knew for sure what happened. Everyone in the Borderlands knows the signs and symptoms."_

" _What did you do then?"_

[A long silence] _"I tried to kill myself, but it's not as easy as you'd think. I ended up in the Blight after a time, and that's when I met Ishamael. After that I began gathering people around me, unwillingly at first, then with a purpose. To destroy as many Shadowspawn as we could before death took us or the Blight swallowed us."_

" _When did you decide to become a False Dragon?"_

[A dry chuckle] _"By the time we started marching I had convinced myself I was the Dragon Reborn. I never thought of myself as a False Dragon."_

" _The Red Ajah played no part in your rapid rise to power?"_

" _The Red Ajah? No, of course not. I know Logain claims he was contacted by Aes Sedai, but that was certainly not my case. The first Red sisters I met were the ones who held me prisoner after we were defeated in Irinjavar."_

" _How did you-"_

[The sound of a door banging open in the background, followed by rapid footsteps] _"Loial! Can you ask me questions too? I want to be interviewed!"_

" _Ila, what did we say about barging in on people like that, without knocking?"_

[A short pause] _"That it was bad?"_

" _I think 'rude' is the term I employed, but yes, it's bad."_

" _But everyone is being interviewed except me! It's not fair!"_

" _Tell you what. You let us finish here and we'll interview you later, alright?"_

" _Promise?"_

" _Yes. Off you go now."_

" _Can't I stay? I wanna hear your interview."_

" _No, you cannot. This is grown-up talk. I won't be long. Just go bother Jay for a while."_

" _I don't think he's awake yet."_

" _All the more reason."_

[A childish giggle] _"Fine. But you promised, so don't forget._ I _won't forget."_ [The sound of retreating footsteps]

" _They seem to adjust well to their new life."_

" _Yes, they do. We all do, I suppose, although it wasn't always easy during the first few days. But there is much to do, it keeps everyone occupied."_

" _Yes, Bao told me about some of your projects. It sounds ambitious."_

" _That's one word for it. The man's insane. He wants to bring Shara into a new Age of Legends. It's all well and good, but he seems to expect it all to happen within the next weeks."_ [A pause] _"It will be years, at the very least, most likely decades. But, you know, as long as it keeps him busy, I can't complain…"_

" _Do you get along?"_

" _Well enough. That is, we haven't tried to kill each other yet, and Jasin's still alive. It could be worse."_

" _And do you and Master Natael get along? You had never met him prior to the Last Battle, if I understand correctly."_

[Loud throat clearing] _"We… ah… yes. He's not all that bad. I must have encountered him once or twice before, but always dismissed him as the Dragon Reborn's useless court bard. Which is how he was supposed to appear, obviously. None of the other Forsaken ever told me who he really was."_

" _Can you tell me more about your relationship with Neya? It seems to me that you deserted the Shadow at least partly because of her. Or was it just because you wanted to be cleansed from the taint?"_

" _Neya… She gave me back my life."_ [A long silence] _"I'm not just talking about what she did during the Last Battle. She gave me back my humanity, when I thought I had lost it long ago. I told you earlier that I thought I could take back the pledge I gave Ishamael if given enough time. Spending time with Neya at the Black Tower, it made me think back on what I was doing, what I had become. I think I would have come clean to her. If Demandred hadn't taken her, no one would have been Turned. I couldn't have done it if she'd been around. But he took her, and… It all degenerated quickly, after that. Demandred used her as leverage against me. What could I do? Going to al'Thor would have meant her death. I couldn't risk it. I could never risk it."_ [A short pause, followed by a dark, bitter chuckle] _"Listen to me, trying to absolve myself, to find excuses. Again. I keep doing that. Logain would be furious."_ [A pause] _"To answer your question, she means everything to me. It's that simple. I went over because of her, not because I thought my sanity could be salvaged. At that point, it didn't seem possible. I suppose I underestimated her once more. I keep doing that, too."_

[A long silence] _"Ahem. Can we talk about your life before you learned you could channel and became a False Dragon? I just want to know a little more about your background, if it's alright with you."_

" _There's not much to tell. My mother raised me on her own. Well, she worked in a brothel, so she wasn't exactly alone. There was plenty of help to go around. I never knew my father or who he was, obviously. She fell ill when I was fourteen. Her condition soon forced her to… retire, and we had to leave the brothel, since she wasn't earning her rent anymore. We found a tiny, unsanitary room in a farm, and I started doing odd jobs here and there to afford the room, until I was offered that position in Kayacun. I made good money there, so we purchased a small cottage."_

" _Is your mother…?"_

" _She died a few months after I realised I could channel. I never told her, but she must have suspected. Before I left, I told her I had been appointed to a higher position, in Maradon. I doubt she bought the lie, however. I used to be a terrible liar, if you can believe it."_

" _May I ask how you learned to read and write? I mean no offense, but it seems unlikely that you learned in a… brothel."_

[A chuckle] _"No offense taken, but I_ did _learn there. Most Saldaean women can read, no matter their occupation, just like they know how to defend themselves. I never learned how to wield a sword, unlike most boys, but I'm fairly good when it comes to throwing knives. The madam always insisted that the girls in her employment learn both those skills, if they didn't already have them."_

" _Oh, I didn't know that. Faile never mentioned it before."_

" _Is that Aybara's wife? Davram Bashere's daughter?"_ [A pause] _"Well, maybe she simply doesn't know. She's a noble. They don't mingle with the common folk."_

" _Faile's not like that! She takes the interests of her people at heart, both high and low."_

" _I wasn't implying that she was intentionally snobbish, Loial. It's just a fact, like the fact that I had very little notion of how nobles function, in Saldaea or anywhere else, when we lived at the brothel. I'm sure she'll do well as a Borderlander queen. Bao says she's tough and unyielding."_

" _Oh yes, the meetings! I forgot to ask him about them. Did you attend as well?"_

" _No, but Neya did. You could ask her. All in all, it didn't go as badly as we feared, except maybe that first one."_

" _Ah, yes. I understand the Amyrlin Seat was rather… displeased. Ahem. I think I have everything I need for now, Mazrim. Thank you for your time."_

" _You're welcome. Do you mind if I borrow the_ ter'angreal _for an hour? I have a promise to keep. Neya warned me not to make random promises to them like that, but I keep forgetting, apparently."_

[A booming laugh] _"They can be quite insistent."_

" _Tell me about it."_


	79. The flowers that bloom in adversity

" _Alright, let's do this, m'lady."_

" _Princess."_

" _Princess. A thousand apologies. What do you want to talk about?"_

" _Me."_

" _Fair enough. Let's cover the basics. How old are you?"_

" _Six. Almost. How old are you?"_

" _Ah… Thirty-three. I think. But I'm the one who asks the questions. That's how it works."_

" _That's not fair. I wanna ask questions too. We can take turns."_

" _Fine. Where do you come from?"_

" _Arad Doman. Are you and Jay going to get married too, like mummy and Bao?"_

[A burst of laughter in the background]

" _What? No, of course not! I would sooner…"_ [A pause] _"No, we're not getting married. Ever."_

" _Why?"_

" _It's my turn to ask a question."_ [Indistinct grumbling] _"What do you want to be when you're older?"_

" _An Asha'man!"_

" _An Asha'man?"_

" _Yes! Because, look, the dragon pin and my tiara are perfectly matched. They're the same colour. It would look pretty."_

" _That's as good a reason as any, I suppose."_

" _Also because I wanna work with Logain."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because he's pretty."_

[Another burst of laughter in the background] _"She's precocious, that one."_

" _Mazrim, how does it work?"_

" _How does what work, love?"_

" _The thing."_

" _The recorder? Well, you have to weave something with the Power to get it started, and then it registers everything you say."_

" _Can I do it?"_

" _Ah… No, sweetie, you can't. You can't channel."_

" _When can I channel?"_

" _Not everyone can channel, Ila. I know you've been around many channelers but, in truth, only a small part of the population can wield the Power."_

" _Oh."_ [A pause] _"Alright. I'll be a warrior princess like Karys, if I can't channel."_

" _That sounds like fun. Are you excited about the wedding?"_

" _Yes! Mummy says I can throw petals when she walks down the aisle. And she says I can have a new dress to wear that day too. I love dresses!"_

" _Yes, I noticed. Do you like the Two Rivers?"_

" _Yeah…"_ [A pause] _"It's very… green."_

" _It is indeed. Do you like it better here?"_

" _Very much better. We have pretty flowers and butterflies. And I like the food."_

" _Which food?"_

" _I love the little spongy cakes and the blue jelly."_

[A faint voice in the background, followed by a girlish giggle] _"Do you think she knows what they're made of?"_

" _Karys, can I ask you questions too?"_

" _What would you ask me? We've been together since you were born, silly. Besides, it's a game for children."_

" _It's not a game, it's an interview. Only famous people can be interviewed. I'm famous, because I'm a princess."_

" _No, you're not. Mazrim is just being nice."_

" _Alright, everybody calm down. Ila, I think it's enough questions for today, love. I have to give the recorder back to Loial."_

" _No! I have another question. It's important."_

" _Just one. Then it's bath time."_

[Indistinct mutter] _"Can I pick the name for the baby girl?"_

" _How do you know it will be a girl?"_

" _Because mummy is a girl, silly. It can't be a boy."_

" _I… never thought of it that way. It's an interesting notion. But where do boys come from, then?"_

" _I don't know. Where do they come from?"_

" _I don't know either. You should ask Bao. He's very knowledgeable about these matters."_

[A snigger in the background]

" _You didn't answer the question."_

" _Well, ah… What would you like to call her?"_

" _Flower."_

[From the background] _"That's not a name, silly. Mazrim, you can't let her choose the name. She only has terrible ideas. Yesterday she wanted to call her Butterfly or Cupcake."_

" _I see. We'll talk to mummy about it, alright? I'm sure we'll come up with something that everyone likes."_

" _Alright. But write it down, in case you forget."_

" _I will. I'll do that while you take your bath."_

" _Do I have to? I already had one yesterday."_

" _Ila, you spend the day in the gardens. You'll trail mud all over the place. People have to clean up your mess, you know. Come on. Karys, keep an eye on Jay. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."_

[From the background] _"I think you've mixed up something in that sentence, darling."_

" _Peace, don't call me that! Just make sure the blasted monkey doesn't turn the place upside down, will you?"_

" _Hey! You can't say that. Bao says it's rude."_

" _Bao is absolutely right."_ [A pause] " _Don't tell him I said that."_

" _I won't if I can skip the bath."_

[Guffaws in the background] _"She learns fast, doesn't she?"_

[Loud clanging noise]

" _For the love of the Light, restrain that beast, Jay!"_

* * *

[The _ter'angreal_ starts recording again some time later]

" _Why didn't you want to do this with your sister?"_

" _Because she's so silly, sometimes. She doesn't take anything seriously."_

" _I hear you. What serious matters do you want to talk about?"_

" _I don't know. I thought you were supposed to ask the questions."_

" _Do you want to talk about Arad Doman, about your life there?"_

" _Yes, alright. We lived in a small village near the coast, with our parents and granny."_

" _Granny, she was your father's mother?"_

" _Yes. She was very old. She was confused most of the time, that's why mummy said she had to live with us. She said strange things when she was asleep, too. She said the ravens were going to come back soon. She also said the Kinslayer was reborn and that he would break the world, and that the Children of the Shadow had awakened. She used to tell us spooky stories about them, you know. Very scary stories. I had nightmares, sometimes."_

[From the background] _"Your grandmother was a Dreamer?"_

" _I don't know, but mummy told me once that she had gone to the White Tower when she was very young, and that she came back a few months later and she was not the same as before. At least that's what granny's father told mummy."_

" _Did you tell your granny that her stories frightened you?"_

" _No. I didn't want her to think I was being a baby. I'm not a coward, you know."_

" _I know you're not, love. Nobody said that. What happened to her?"_

" _She died on the day the Shon-Chan came. She died in her sleep. She looked very frightened, though, with her mouth hanging open and her eyes very wide. It's odd because people say dying in your sleep is supposed to be peaceful."_

" _Maybe she saw something scary in her dreams, or maybe she knew the Seanchan were there. Did you leave Arad Doman that day?"_

" _Yes, we fled with most of the other villagers. Everybody was scared and running around, but we never actually saw any invader. I didn't, anyway. Then we travelled for a long time with other refugees. It wasn't very pleasant. Sometimes we didn't have any food, and my feet hurt all the time. We didn't have a horse."_

" _That must have been difficult. Where did you go, before you came to the Black Tower?"_

" _Lots of different places. I don't remember the names. First we went to Saldaea, and then we went south, toward Andor, but daddy couldn't find work anywhere. We were not far from Caemlyn when we heard about the amnesty."_

" _Did you like living at the Tower?"_

" _I liked it when daddy was there, and when Neya was still there. Afterward it wasn't so nice."_

" _Yeah, sorry about that."_

" _Can we go back there sometime? It'd be nice to see Logain and the others again."_

" _Yes, I suppose we could visit someday. Logain doesn't hate us. Well, he doesn't hate you kids and Neya."_

" _We could tell them to visit, too."_

" _Neya already told him. She also invited them to the wedding."_

" _Oh, that's nice."_ [A pause] _"Mazrim, aren't you sad that Neya is getting married to Bao?"_

" _Technically, they're already married."_

" _But you love her."_

[A long silence] _"I do. But I'm not sad. I'm happy for her."_

" _Do you have a family?"_

" _I do. Right here."_

" _Silly. I meant in Saldaea."_

" _No, I don't. It's just you three."_

[A voice in the background] _"It's not nice of you to exclude the little girl just because she's sleeping."_

" _It's you I wasn't counting, nitwit."_

[Giggles]

" _Do you really want to become a warrior princess?"_

" _No, I just want to be a warrior. Like Birgitte Silverbow. I'm going to ask Uncle Knotai to teach me how to use a Two Rivers bow. And the staff, too."_

" _That should keep you busy for a few years."_

" _I don't really want to be a princess. Do I have to be one?"_

" _No, of course you don't, love. You can be whatever you want to be. I'm sure Ila will be princess enough for both of you, anyway."_

" _Do I still have to wear the tiara?"_

" _No, you don't have to wear it all the time. Just for ceremonies."_

[From the background] _"Can I have it, if you're not using it?"_

[Giggles] _"I don't think it will fit."_

[From the background] _"What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying my head is too big?"_

" _It is too big. Like your ego."_

" _It's not the only part of me that's big."_

" _Could you not…?"_ [A pause] _"Honestly, man."_

" _Don't worry, I didn't understand. I think I'll go to bed now."_

" _Alright. Let me just turn this off and I'll tuck you in."_


	80. Neya - Long live the Queen

" _I'm really not sure what more I can tell you, Loial. I told the others that they could tell you whatever you wanted to know about me when you interviewed them the second time."_

" _Oh, they did. They told me of their time spent with you, how you cured the madness in Shara, the battle at Dumai's Wells, your time in the Waste. It's a fascinating thing,_ ta'maral'ailen _. Of course, I witnessed many strange occurrences first-hand, thanks to Rand, Mat and Perrin, but it seems you had your fair share of adventures in the past two years. To think that you encountered five of the Forsaken, and turned two of them to the Light! Or three, even. One could argue that Master Natael's continued loyalty to Rand was partly due to you. And now they have all attached themselves to you. They hold you in high esteem indeed, the three of them."_

" _Yes, it seems that my_ ta'veren _nature has melted their brains somewhat."_

" _Oh, not at all! I doubt it was only due to that. It simply twisted the odds, influenced events, but I'm convinced it was ultimately your true self, your humanity, that made their conversion possible. That is also their opinion, in fact. But if I may be so bold, it does remind me of Rand and his… ah… well, that is, of the way he consorted with Min, Aviendha and Queen Elayne, without any of them seeming to mind."_

" _It's not like that at all. Bao is my husband, and him alone. I am bonded to Mazrim, it's true, but it's different. We're not lovers. Jasin and he are together now, and we don't need to make everything even more complicated than it already is."_

" _Ahem. Well, as long as everyone is content with the situation, I'm sure it's fine. How do the children adapt to these peculiar… arrangements?"_

[Laughter] _"They couldn't be happier. Imagine it, they have four people entirely committed to them. And they're princesses. Does it get any better than that?"_

" _Indeed. I understand their life prior to their arrival at the Black Tower was not easy."_

" _Well, it wasn't exactly peachy when they were at the Black Tower. Their father died at Dumai's Wells. Before that, I know that they fled Arad Doman when the Seanchan invaded and that their father decided to join the Tower because he couldn't find work anywhere. They didn't tell me much of their life in Arad Doman. I only know that their mother died when Ila was just a baby and that they lived with their grandmother, who took care of them while their father worked. He was a carpenter. I don't know what happened to their grandmother. I assume she died before the Seanchan came."_

" _Can you tell me more about Ishamael? I've already asked the others, but it seems to me that you knew him better than anyone. I wish I could simply interview him, but he left Merrilor before I even realised he was alive. I don't suppose you know where he is?"_

[A short silence] _"I'm afraid not."_ [Another silence] _"He was… is… not a fundamentally bad person. He's not… evil, no more than Bao or Jay or Mazrim. Few people are truly evil, I think. That doesn't mean they didn't do evil things, of course. I'm not in denial about their past misdeeds, and I don't approve of them in any way, or try to find excuses for them. But it belongs to the past. They've been given a second chance, and I intend to see they don't make a mess of it."_ [A pause]" _But Elan… I've often wondered if maybe he was mad before any of this happened, before even the drilling of the Bore. Delusional, possibly. He's a genius, you see, but he had strange theories and conceptions of the world already before the Collapse. I'm sure Bao told you about their professional collaboration."_

" _Yes, he did. He even allowed me to borrow some of the books that were stored in Ishamael's library, including Ishamael's works."_

" _Well, good luck with those."_ [A snort of laughter] _"I couldn't make sense of them. Anyway, mad or not, he was incredibly knowledgeable, refined, intelligent. He was also tired of living. Immortality weighed heavily on him, and it was made increasingly worse by his sporadic stays in Shayol Ghul. I don't think he was ever truly asleep, or whatever it was, not like the others. Can you imagine spending years, sometimes centuries, sealed away in a never-ending, restless nightmare? I certainly can't. If he wasn't mad before, he certainly was after that, and no wonder."_

" _Was he different, when he reappeared to you as Moridin?"_

" _Not really, no. Gloomier than ever, but he was never cheerful to begin with. I only talked to him for a few minutes, in any case."_

" _What can you tell me about Lanfear and your encounter with her? Master Natael wouldn't say much on the subject."_

" _I… Loial, I'd rather not talk about that. I'm sorry."_

" _Oh, not at all! I understand. I just… Did you know she had been re-embodied? As Cyndane?"_

" _No, I didn't. I assumed she was dead, like Moiraine. I don't think even Bao knew who Cyndane really was."_

" _Did you ever meet any of the other Forsaken?"_

" _No."_ [A short pause] _"Well, that is… Bao said Aginor infiltrated the Black Tower in its early days. The new Aginor. The Dark One named him Osan'gar, but he called himself Corlan Dashiva."_

" _Dashiva? I had no idea he was one of the Forsaken! Rand never told me that."_

" _Maybe he didn't know. He must have assumed he was just another Darkfriend, or a Forsaken's puppet, like the others who tried to kill him, in Cairhien. He was killed in Aridhol, during the cleansing of the taint, Bao told me. In any case, I didn't know him very well. He was aloof and unpleasant, and he was either pretending to be mad, or he really was. From what I've heard, he was always aloof and unpleasant."_ [A brief pause] _"Oh, and I had a brief encounter with Graendal in Caemlyn, when she tried to kill Jay. But he must have told you about that."_

" _Yes, indeed. A good thing you were there. Another manifestation of_ ta'maral'ailen, _to be sure. Ahem. Mazrim told me about your father and what happened to your family. How did you come to be adopted by the Cauthons?"_

 _"Well, we lived some distance from Emond's Field, but my parents were close to the Cauthons. They'd known each other forever, and Natti and my mother were fast friends."_

 _"Some distance? How far, exactly?"_

 _"About as far as Tam's farm, I'd say, but in the other direction. From a small hamlet inhabitant's point of view, that's quite a distance. It seems laughable now, of course. Anyway, when I was brought to the village, after the incident, Abell had apparently already discussed with Natti, the Council and the Circle. I moved in with them the very same day."_

 _"Were you close to Mat, when you were younger?"_

 _"Yes, quite. He had the most twisted ideas for pranks, but I was the practical one. I usually came up with the best way to achieve them, which never failed to exasperate Egwene. Well, her and everyone else."_

 _"Were you and Egwene good friends?"_

 _"She was my best friend, and my only female friend, in fact. I've always gotten along better with boys. I liked to play with Mat, Rand and Perrin, and accompany them on expeditions in the Mountains of Mist. That is, until I almost fell over a cliff and developed an incontrollable fear of heights."_

 _"Are you excited to go back to the Two Rivers for your wedding?"_

 _"Yes, of course. I think everyone is, the girls especially."_

 _"How do your parents feel about you being married to Bao?"_

 _"Well, Da had a bit of trouble coming to terms with it at first, but he's adjusting slowly, I think. Ma has already adopted him as part of the family, and my sisters as well. And they're quite fond of Mazrim and Jay, and the girls. All in all, it went a lot smoother than I expected."_

 _"I understand that relationships are tense with the western leaders, but that the Amyrlin Seat is rooting for you."_

 _"Yes, for some reason, she is. She's a strange woman, Cadsuane, and quite fearsome. I'm certainly glad that she's on our side. Elayne Trakand seems inclined to allow us to trade with Andor, but we're still in negotiations. We already made agreements with Logain and Lan Mandragoran. Hopefully the others will see sense soon."_

 _"What about Faile?"_

 _"Ah… She hasn't really made her position clear. I think she's still considering. I hope Perrin can talk some sense into her. I believe the other Borderlander rulers are willing to be more open to negotiations as well. They're a practical lot."_

 _"And the Seanchan?"_

 _"We have had no contact with them – that is, with Fortuona. I've only seen Mat twice since the Last Battle, briefly. Light, I still can't believe he's going to be a father."_ [A pause] _"Well, I'm the one to talk."_

 _"How far along are you?"_

 _"Thirty weeks. It won't be long, now. Mazrim is getting more agitated by the day."_

 _"I can imagine. Ahem. I won't bother you much longer. I would just like to have your impressions on being a queen."_

 _"It's a lot of responsibilities, and it gives me much cause to worry. I'm only beginning to get the hang of it. Hopefully, in a few centuries, I won't need Bao's constant approval to do anything."_

 _"I'm sure you will be a great queen. You and Bao make a good team. I've discussed with some of the servants in the palace, and many of the former slaves as well. They all seem content with the way you're handling things. And the Freed are adjusting to their new lives quite well, apparently. This new woman you've appointed to assist them – Teyla? – is doing a wonderful job."_

 _"Oh yes, she's a miracle worker. She's from the forests, up north. We didn't even know there were people living there until we opened a gateway nearby, a few weeks ago. It's amazing what we've uncovered thanks to the gateway platforms. A few days ago, we found an enormous relic from the Age of Legends. Bao thinks it might be some sort of_ _ter'angreal_ _used to regulate the weather, but we haven't tested it yet. And we discovered this recorder in a tiny village along the eastern coast. The village chiefs have been passing it along for generations, never knowing what it was. Bao exchanged it against another_ _ter'angreal_ _, one that can predict storms, which is much more useful to them."_

 _"It is a marvellous find. Are you quite sure I can keep it?"_

 _"Of course. It is a gift. The Sharans are very peculiar when it comes to gift giving. Trying to return it would be considered offensive."_

 _"Well, in that case, I cannot thank you enough."_ [A pause] _"I think I have everything I need, Neya. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me."_

 _"It's always a pleasure to talk with you, Loial. We're happy to have you and Erith here."_

 _"And we're happy to be here. I think Erith would like to travel across Shara, when things are somewhat less… chaotic… in the West. I understand the Ways network is a bit different here?"_

 _"You mean the City of Dreams? I don't know. I'm afraid few people know how to navigate them. But if you're going to travel to the_ abrishi _'s monastery, like you intended, they might be able to tell you more."_

 _"I'll be sure to ask them. Thank you again, Neya."_

* * *

 **Author's note:** Alright, that's all I've got. Thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to review, all comments are appreciated.


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